Unwell
by Shadow Sanctuary
Summary: A street tough blond braves the wrath of criminals just to save his all-time rival, but soon discovers that the past is an inescapable terror to his acquaintance who teeters on the point of no return...
1. Just Another Day

WARNING! PLEASE READ BEFORE VIEWING THE CONTENTS OF THIS STORY: It has been brought to my attention that this literature is in dire need of a rating change. I believe my fiction qualifies for the rated R status. This is a list of attributes my composition has in it. If it offends you in any way possible, please search for another story that's more to your liking.

Includes these events/pairings/emotions:

Seto Kaiba stars as the lead character, who is not a mentally strong or very stable figure within these chapters (he has a cutter's self-esteem, for example). He deals with many traumatic issues and is placed in very dangerous situations. Not only that, but, since he sells his body to make money, he does wear make-up and some extremely tight-fitting, body-defining attire. 

Prostitution, abusive violence, foul language, explicit sexual content (namely oral sex), and attempted rape occur at some point and time. Fetishes (like cutting and bondage) are mentioned, but not described in graphic detail.

Highly emotional scenes take place, ones that are specifically of the Angst/Horror genre. 

Yaoi (which will appear in upcoming chapters and a possible sequel) is very blatantly used. There shall be one boy/boy couple in this fic, however; I refuse to reveal that element at the start of the literature. This is due to the fact that I want the pair to be a surprise for my readers, perhaps even an extra incentive to finish viewing my work. 

As you may have already guessed from the title, this is a fan fic based off of the lyrics to "Unwell", music by the popular band Matchbox Twenty. 

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How to Read This Fic:

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/Statements that are all in the bold-type font and italicized and within back slashes represent song lyrics. /

/Statements, which appear italicized and within backslashes, are the thoughts of the main character, Seto Kaiba. /

Words that are simply italicized in paragraphs or in a character's dialogue are meant to be emphasized when seen.

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Author's Note on Reviews:

Now that I have made you fully aware of what may happen along the way, I do hope you read my documents well and be so kind as to make a review for me to see. I write literature so I can become better at it, and only the readers of the fan fiction world can assist me with such a dream. As always, I appreciate **_constructive criticism _**more than slanderous remarks or vile come-backs. For some reason or another, if you are dissatisfied with my work, I _encourage_ you to at least tell me what I could improve on. Reviews are always welcomed by me, but only if they are more than unintelligent ghetto rants. 

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Author's Note On Using This Story on Other Web Pages -or- for Inspired Doujinshi:

If you are interested in using this fiction for another site, this is my e-mail address:

shattered_sanctuary@hotmail.com

I only ask that you (the web master/mistress) send me the address to your site so I can visit once and a while. Seeing my work showcased in other domains across the Internet makes me happy. ^_^

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From One Artist to Another:

Other than write poetry and works of fiction, I also draw quite a bit. For this particular composition, I have illustrated fan art for my portfolio. Contact me by using the e-mail address listed above if you would like me to send you my fan art. 

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And in Closing:

As I've stated before, please find another story to engross yourself in if you find this one too disturbing to read. Honestly, I found this literature very hard to write and edit myself, so I understand if any fan fiction readers find great difficulty in perusing my writing. For those of you that believe you can brave the facets of my fiction, you are more than welcome to continue on to the actual story. 

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Thank-you!

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~Shinigami Sweeti

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Chapter One: Just Another Day…

**__**

/All day, staring at the ceiling, making friends with shadows on my wall. /

Sapphire eyes glared at the ceiling, forcing themselves not to blink. They hated engaging in actions that were degrading, so positively unsophisticated that they barely felt human. The owner of the dull blue orbs dismissed these feelings of bitterness; for he knew what he was doing was necessary for survival.

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/I have_ to do this.../ _the dark-haired boy mumbled to himself, still trying to convince himself that his lifestyle was somehow justifiable, _/He depends on me for everything. I can't let him down, so this is the only option I have left.../_

And yet another side of his mind vocalized its opinion, the half of his brain that condemned him for all of his seemingly good intentions:

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/He's going to find out what you're up to. / the voice warned him, possessing a stern and harsh tone. _/Once he does, he'll loathe you, despise you…/_

"No!" cried the tall male, squeezing his eyes shut. Gripping his head with shaky hands, he let the mascara he held plummet to the carpet below. 

He wasn't sure what hit the floor first: his make-up applicator, the frail flesh and bone of his knees, or his very own heart. Everything about him was so disgusting, repulsive, just absolutely sickening that he couldn't even tolerate himself. Stifling a sob, the adolescent with brown tresses reflected on his nocturnal behavior. Night after night, he found himself in the same place, on the same identical street corner he had grown peculiarly accustomed to. The routine never varied that much, since his profession dictated to him that this was all he was capable of. All he had to do was stand around and look pretty, flashing some stranger a seductive grin or passing his limbs over his frame to make himself appear more enticing. Potential customers loved seeing some submissive little vixen like him, and they paid top dollar to people like the cobalt-eyed male who could market themselves well. That's what his grisly consumers expected, to throw a small bit of change at him for the purpose of having their way with him. Usually, that included anything from mild bondage to extreme cutting, depending on the mood of his consumers. Absentmindedly, the sapphire-eyed boy ran his fingertips over the abrasion on his arm. This one was just a surface wound, a small love nip given to him by a frequent patron of his. Realistically, there were much worse lacerations on his back and sides, so a few moderate scratches close to his wrist didn't bother him as much as the others did. Even the deepest wounds on his skin were mere scrapes, scars that could be seen with the naked eye and touched by clothes or other individuals. And then there was the other kind of injuries, the types of gashes that weren't created by the amateur use of a weapon, but by the conduct of another human being. His unseen pain was not only produced from those he provided services for, but from himself, too. After all, he was the one who put himself in such compromising positions, who dragged himself out into the dark hours of the morning to fill up space in some lonely man's bed. Who else did he have to blame beside himself?

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/But…I have to do this! / he argued with himself, biting down hard on his lower lip. _/Stocks in my corporation have been falling! Our economy's in a recession, so I can't afford the life of luxury I want for my sibling anymore! My company's going broke, what else can I do? /_

Clawing the chair next to his vanity table, he dragged himself off the ground. Swallowing back mixed emotions, the dark-haired teen caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

"Shit!" he cursed, taking in his disheveled appearance. "My first appointment is at twelve, and I look like I've been having a screw fest for most of the day!" Hastily rummaging through his cosmetics case, the blue-eyed male scoured his belongings for a hair utensil. "Damnit, I had it a minute ago! What did I do with it?!"

Tossing some eye shadow and lipstick aside, he scraped the bottom of the silk bag. Frowning in frustration, he nearly tore open a Velcro compartment on the purse and stuck his hand inside. Slender fingertips searched the confines of the tiny area, hoping to retrieve at least some sort of grooming appliance fit for styling. When the object of his desire was clearly missing from its typical place, he let the sequined accessory drop from his palms. Containers of gaudy make-up spilled onto his rugs, staining the expensive merchandise with almost every color of the rainbow. Casting a weary gaze towards a bottle of nail polish seeping into his antique mats, the cobalt-eyed adolescent sighed.

"Oh, well. It's not like any of the bastards care what I look like." said the tall teen, exhaling miserably. "They just want to see what I can do for them. None of them actually _care_ for me." 

Bending at the waist, he recovered a cracked tube of lip-gloss. Dipping an index finger in the sticky solution, he painted the length of his mouth with the substance. Taking a nearby tissue, he fixed a streak of eyeliner as he smacked his lips together. Finally deciding that he was finished with his face, he backed up from the counter he was at. Critical orbs of his scanned his frame, double-checking to see that every single strand of hair was perfectly sculpted, along with having the best-suited attire to lure newcomers in with. Glossy brown tresses of his were pulled into a ponytail, the strings of the rubber band adorned with glitter of royal blue. A tight-fitting halter-top grasped his toned structure, exposing his back and mid-section. Hugging the span of his hips was a pair of body defining shorts, the black leather material nearly cutting off his circulation. Completing the streetwalker attire was a set of shiny white boots, the heels of the shoes emulating the fashion of stiletto pumps. Worse than the whole revealing get-up was his visage, which had such dark rouge on the eyes and cheeks that he resembled a--

Striding towards his bedroom door, he raised a hand to turn out the lights. He could still see his reflection in the mirror, returning his gaze of self-detestation and guilt. Terrible remorse slashed at his soul, sorrow so horrible that he had to turn his attention elsewhere to save him from being consumed by it. He was someone that was rumored to be cold and cruel, yet no one knew he was the polar opposite of those traits. To his peers, he was nothing but an arrogant businessman who devoured his competition. As for his standard clientele…_they_ were the animals that demolished _him_, leaving the dark-haired boy with a sense of worthlessness he would never be able to conquer. 

"The truth is I don't really care for myself, either." whispered the sapphire-eyed teen, his watery vision falling to the floor. "I don't have a reason to." 

Flicking the switch off with his ready fingers, the tall male entered the corridor outside his living space. The world of dreams was calling to him, wearing on his lids like miniature weights. Longing for the warmth and comfort of his mattress and matching sheets, he leaned against an open wall. 

**__**

/All night, hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep/

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/So tired…/ he murmured to himself, his statements lifeless and hardly audible, _/I can't remember the last time I got a full night's rest. / _

Feeling his eyes droop shut, he quickly patted himself on the cheek with a trembling palm. Turning his head sharply from side to side, he molded his body into a more rigid pose. Sleep, like many other constructive activities, would have to be put on hold for now. Besides, his employers were waiting for him to tend to their needs. How would he explain to his customers that he accidentally drifted into silent slumber while standing in a hallway? 

**__**

/Because tomorrow might be good for something…/

Pasting a plastic smile on his visage, the male with brown tresses thought to himself, _/Tomorrow's another day…maybe it'll be good for something. Maybe when I come home, I'll arrive just in time to greet my brother when he wakes up. / _

**__**

/Hold on…/

Absorbed in the simple fantasy of seeing his relative smile at him in the morning, the sapphire-eyed teen found the strength to escort himself through the hall. Of course this would be another night of brutal "lovemaking" and fetish pleasing, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. At the crack of dawn, when his sick shift was over, he promised himself that he would return to his cherished mansion. He would come running back home, just to collapse by his brother's bed and hold him in his arms. 

**__**

/Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown, and I don't know why. /


	2. Like No Tomorrow

Chapter Two: Like No Tomorrow

"Hey, you little snot-nosed brat! You either get over here and do what you're paid to do, or you can get the hell out of here!"

Seto, who was still standing in the entrance to the apartment, grimaced at the sound of the harsh language thrown towards him. He was brought up in an environment where even the slightest mispronunciation of a word was considered a mortal sin. Never would such brutish sentence structure escape the mouths of even the youngest children of the upper class Kaiba was acquainted with. Eloquence, the intricate technique of combining above average vocabulary with intelligent conversation tactics, was the only way someone of high society could survive. Of course, some cleverly placed witticisms traced with irresistible charm couldn't help but raise a person's status rating, along with a few award-winning smiles. 

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/Rich and famous individuals can be just as vicious and nasty as the men I work for, though. / the tall teen reminded himself, chewing on his bottom lip. _/They always have the sharp blades of their tongues poised, ready to attack someone with the whiplash of their damaging speech. Aristocrats always have to worry about fitting in, mindlessly agreeing with any group of money-flaunting bastards, always trying to find the best method to suck up to someone--/_

"Excuse me," interrupted his newest client, practically spitting out the words he formed, "I don't know what you're doing, but you can chit-chat with yourself on your own time! You think I'm payin' ya to take a tour of my home here?"

"No, sir," the brown-haired adolescent said quickly, drawing himself out of his own personal musings. "I was just-"

Before he could complete his statement, his customer seized one of his wrists. Plastering the boy's frail limb to his back, the rough patron started to twist Seto's arm in an abnormal fashion. Hanging his chin over the younger male's neck, the consumer pressed his body up against the firm structure in front of him. Kaiba, jerking his head towards the direction of the ceiling, felt his mouth drop open in a frozen scream. At this moment in his life, he couldn't comprehend anything else besides the signals of pure pain shooting through his veins, forcing him to shudder in a fear colder than death. Every time someone made a move on him like this, he never ceased to become absorbed by panic. 

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/Wait, why am I so afraid of this? / he asked himself, his wild blue orbs fixed on the texture of the surface ahead of him. _/All depraved guys like this pull similar stunts to get themselves in the mood. Matter of fact, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. I mean, what vile deed could this pervert possibly come up with that can't be dismissed later? /_

"When you're in _my _house, you do what _I _want." the man growled in his product's ear, breathing heavily on the tender flesh he held.

Somehow, the phrase spoken to him sounded more like a threat than a statement. Nodding his assent, the sapphire-eyed individual tried to make up for his reverie with passive expressions.

"I'm sorry for causing you to wait so long." apologized the tall teen softly, using the silky attribute of his voice to calm his client down. 

He hoped that he was dealing with a slight case of irritation, a reaction that could easily be remedied with some well-placed maneuvers. All he had to do was push the right buttons to get what he wanted out of the ruffian…something he knew he would literally have to do to earn his salary. In spite of the significant power struggle occurring between the pale boy and his customer, Seto attempted to free himself from the horrible grip he was in to gain back some control in his favor. If he persisted to keep his lips sealed, then the brown-haired boy worried he would have more severe problems to deal with. After all, this job was _supposed _to be earning him extra cash. How would he ever explain to his brother why he would need to drain the remaining balance of his checking account for a string of medical bills?

"Is that so?" inquired Kaiba's captor, his tone as taunting as his dominating disposition, "What ya gonna do to make up for it?"

Swallowing his pride, the slender adolescent answered huskily, "Whatever pleases you the most."

"Oooh, ain't you a saucy one?" commented the crude man, rubbing his unshaven face across the exterior of his temporary merchandise. That single gesture was enough to make the blue-eyed boy's skin prickle, forcing him to endure streams of shivers throughout his entire system. As if he could sense the wary condition his prey was in, the cruel male toyed with the boy's conscience relentlessly. "You really believe you got what it takes to make me happy? What if I don't like what you do?"

"My performance level is so high that I should be called an expert in this field." countered Seto swiftly, giving his client the illusion of false pride by throwing back his shoulders while straightening his body. "I've never left a customer feeling dissatisfied with any experience they've had with me."

"Arrogantly put." the dirty man remarked, obviously not fooled by Kaiba's show of artificial confidence. "For a whore, you're pretty conceited."

"Oh, is that so?" the dark-haired male asked, mimicking his captor's illiterate sarcasm. Even though he knew the repercussions of his next group of words would be atrocious, the blue-eyed boy couldn't resist holding his tongue any longer. "For an uneducated guy, I believe "conceited" is the largest vocabulary word you've used so far."

"Wrong answer." was all the strong client spat, his tone of voice containing a steely edge to it.

The consumer didn't halt to intimidate his painted artifact, nor did he keep on bullying the individual he had in his clutches. Instead, he yanked the delicate limb he had in his palm into a more warped position, triggering a tortured cry from his victim. Relishing the pitiful whimpering, the ruthless male repeated his dastardly actions. 

At last, when the poor teen could barely bring himself to communicate his grief verbally, the patron asked sharply, "Had enough yet?"

Nodding his head vigorously, the pale adolescent watched as a bead of icy sweat dripped off his visage.

"That's not good enough for me to hear." snarled the customer, continuing to wrench his product's arm into an even more agonizing pose. "Now, do ya want me to stop?"

Fearing that the bones in his brutalized limb would punch through his skin, the thin schoolboy croaked, "Y-yes-"

"Yes _please_." Seto's master corrected harshly, apparently wanting the boy to beg for his life.

"Y-Yes, please." repeated Kaiba, disgracefully reduced to a new extreme.

Nothing clawed at his nerves more than pleading. The whole pathetic feat seemed like something only desperate weaklings would accomplish, drama queens who used tears to their advantage. They were crybabies in Seto's mind, immature individuals who could only achieve what they wanted by exploiting their emotions. 

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/Am I not the same as all those childish coworkers and classmates of mine now? / the young man wondered silently, terrorized by the hidden truth he had revealed to himself. _/What if I'm just a reflection of the inadequacy I'm constantly surrounded by? Could it also be that this is the only future I'm ever going to have, getting assaulted by ignorant bastards at night and mending injured goods during day light hours? /_

To him, working day in and day out like this was a lot like sky diving without a parachute. Pushed off of his comfortable seat at the top of the stock market charts, the brown-haired boy watched helplessly as his company's shares decreased daily, cutting his corporation's multi-billion dollar corporation in half. None of his technology was selling anymore, not even his newest, state-of-the-art machines with data systems that surpassed even the most recent PC upgrades. If the truth was ever allowed to be told, citizens of his country were being depressed by a recession-the worst they had witnessed in years. People could no longer afford to throw their hard-earned money away on a brand-new computer network or a fancy cable modem hook-up. Consequently, the entertainment industry had taken the largest hit, namely the tech-based ones. Living in an economy that was growing worse with every news update, residents of his hometown were subjected to undesirable professions and mediocre wages. Even after he had completed the horrendous task of downsizing his employees, Kaiba realized that it would only be a matter of time before his cherished business would dissolve. That's when he entered into the hardcore lifestyle of prostitution, practically selling his soul to make a buck. Domino City, which had been attracting tourists across the globe, apparently had a dark side to its quaintly illustrated brochures. It had its slums, its ghetto atmosphere where either incredibly crazy people roamed, or amazingly naïve individuals wandered into. In all honesty, the streets weren't a very nice place to meet new friends. And it was an even worse destination to be caught dead in. 

/It's--for him_, though…/ _Seto reminded himself forcefully, remembering his one and only reason for stalking the streets, _/The minute I quit getting cash for what I do, that'll be the same time when I'll have to admit to him that I can't provide for him anymore--/_

Suddenly, a terrifying image flashed inside his head, the picture possessing enough impact to take his breath away. He imagined his dear sibling huddled in his lap, grabbing on to his jacket like his very life depended on how well he could hold on. Tears were pouring over his brother's tender cheeks, wetting the front of his formal attire. No matter how hard he hugged his relative's small frame or how much he tried to comfort him; the little boy seemed to be lost in a maze of misery. Casually, someone lifted his sibling from his arms, leaving him to grovel on his marble tiles. Gazing up mournfully from his position on the floor, he caught a glimpse of a social worker handling his brother, dragging the weeping youngster through the double doors of his mansion never to be seen again. Screams resonated from the outside of his grand home, appalling sounds of sorrow that could only be compared to his own heart breaking in defeated sadness. 

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/That--That won't happen. / he told himself over and over again, banishing the horrifying image from his head. _/That will _never _happen. I will let Lucifer himself purchase my soul before I'd ever let a crisis counselor take my brother away from me. We've never been split up before, and we never will be, either. /_

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/I'm not crazy; I'm just a little unwell. /

"See, Mokuba?" Kaiba whispered quietly to himself as his dominator released him and pushed him to hisknees. "I'm not crazy for doing this. I might be a little _unwell_ for living this way, but not _crazy_."

"Well, you gonna give me a wax job or not?" inquired the vile man before Seto, shoving his anatomy in the tall teen's face.

Staring disdainfully at the distorted sex organ, the pale schoolboy licked his lips. His mouth was as dry as the heat in the Sahara, his stomach had shrunk into a tight little knot, and his skin had mirrored the same color and texture of a corpse's, but--

**__**

/I know, right now you can't tell. Just stay a little while and maybe then you'll see, a different side of me. /

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/There's no turning back now. / the fifteen-year-old thought with distant finality, condemning himself to another shift of putrid pleasures. _/I can't be who I used to be anymore…/_

Taking the hardened flesh into his mouth, the male with dark tresses held his jaw open for easy access. Undoubtedly pleased with the offer being extended to him, the thoughtless man rammed the full length of himself into his transitory lover's throat. Seto, who was already used to such a selfish show of self-gratification, had no trouble keeping his windpipe free and clear. Animals like this were all the same to him, over-possessive creatures of the shadows that could only get laid by flashing a hooker some hundred dollar bills. But that was okay to the blue-eyed boy, just fine with him. He wasn't giving this ill-mannered ghetto scrounge something for nothing. There was money to be made, and that was all he was concerned with at the moment. Pain was only a passing factor, the bruises would heal, the cuts would eventually vanish, and he could finally look forward to the one ray of sunshine in his life: his sibling's arms.

**__**

/I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired. I know, right now you don't care. /

/No, I'm not_ crazy, dear brother. / _Seto repeated again and again in his mind, feeling the deteriorating strands of his self-esteem repair themselves upon listening to such a firm affirmation. _/I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired. You'll see. I promise you'll see that everything's going to be all right. /_

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/But soon enough you're gonna think of me, and how I used to be. /

Seto Kaiba, the owner of an internationally known company, an inventor of revolutionary PC equipment and advancements, a brilliant businessman who never ceased to strategically play his cards right, had humbled himself to swallowing the salty fluid that instantly overwhelmed him. Placing a hand over his mouth, he had to focus on steadying himself in order not to vomit up the bitter substance. Somewhere, somehow, some undercover journalist was probably outside the dingy apartment he was in, taking photographs of what they had seen. Wouldn't Domino City be surprised to read in their Sunday newspapers about some formerly rich executive who had it all, and then suddenly had to sell his body to support himself? Oddly enough, he couldn't care less about the demanding customers he faced, the reporters trying to get a shocking new story to cover, or the conflicting feelings he had concerning his self-image. All he had a place for in his heart was his brother's arms, those sweet little limbs wrapped around his neck like there was no tomorrow. 


	3. Double Jeopardy

Chapter Three: Double Jeopardy

"Give me my money!" demanded the dark-haired boy, banging on the door of his last client's residence.

"I don't have to give you shit." responded the filthy male in his apartment, his tone cold and uncaring. "Get the hell off my property before--"

"But I earned that wage!" Seto protested, trying to sound aggressive enough to be taken seriously this time. 

He'd had enough of being short-changed, of being cheated, of having to hang his head and walk away like a wounded animal with its tail between its legs because his customers were taking advantage of him. Now more than ever, he needed that money, so desperately yearned for any greenbacks that he could get his hands on, that he would do whatever needed to be done just to get it. Of course, that wasn't always an easy task to keep up with. Sometimes, a consumer would stuff some cash into his hand, promising to give him the rest of the dough later that evening. When push came to shove, after he had done just about everything from going down on his client to having destructive intercourse with them, he found himself being hurled out of their home with under half of his wages still crumpled in his palm. This was one of those same nightmares, the scary reality of being used for hours of possessed enjoyment, just to be thrust from the stranger's dwelling with barely enough currency in his pocket to be considered minimum wage. He couldn't bear to let this happen again, to be humiliated and frustrated by a person who reeked of below-average intelligence. That was _his_ salary that he earned, _his _pay that had taken numerous minutes of torture to acquire, and he _intended _to get every penny that was owed to his name, even if it killed him.

"Are you listening to me?" shouted Kaiba; grimacing every moment his fist met the hard wooden surface he faced. "You're in debt now, you freaking parasite! I want what you told me I'd get! I have to have it! I need to get what I deserve--"

In a flash, the door to the cramped living quarters burst open, almost as if the habitat itself was reacting to Seto's final statement. From the shadowy emptiness emerged a large palm, the limb aiming straight for the pale schoolboy's visage. Although the blue-eyed boy attempted to duck the on-coming attack, he didn't move quickly enough, for the blow caught him on the cheek. Stunned from the unexpected blow, the painted artifact's head snapped to the side, forcing him to lose his balance. Unable to prevent himself from falling, the brown-haired teen crashed into the wall behind him. His skull smashed against the rough exterior, creating a nauseating sound he had never heard before. Listening to the creepy thud bounce throughout the corridor of the hallway he sat slumped in, he knew one thing for certain: he never wanted to hear such an awful noise again. Ever. 

"I reckon I gave you just about what you deserved." the man said at last, towering over Kaiba like a naughty child who was on the brink of destroying yet another used toy. "I gather that was what you had in mind, right?"

Alarmed by the expression of sheer insanity he saw, the tall teen shrank away from the abusive individual who smacked him. He didn't want to provoke the lunatic any more than he already had. No amount of money was worth dying for at this interval in his existence, no matter how badly he craved the bills the bulky male had flashed him when they first met. All he had to do was keep quiet, and maybe the overgrown madman would disappear back into his hellhole of a place. Maybe he would. Just maybe.

Appearing to be satisfied by Seto's fear stormed orbs, the callous client smiled. "Good," he finally vocalized, amused by the trembling condition he had imposed on his most recent victim, "I'm glad you're happy now, son. Wouldn't want ya leavin' my place feelin' like you didn't make the most of your time here. Here, I'll even give ya another partin' present for comin' all the way up here just to be with me." 

Bending at the waist, the grungy male drew closer to his one-night stand. His mostly white shirt started to slide up to his chest, revealing the project of a long, sloping gut that had been developing for years. Thick sheets of hair protruded from his stocky frame, reminding the cobalt-eyed teen of a gorilla dressed in awkward human attire. It was no wonder to the pale schoolboy why scientists perpetually compared people to apes. This very man had to be the product of a monkey's evolution; only he still resembled what Neanderthals of the dinosaur era had to have been. 

"N-no, please," Kaiba started to whimper, sinking back to the level of childish begging he hated to imitate. "No m-more, _please_?" He hoped that he could gain the crazed individual's favor by emphasizing the word he had been made to say earlier in the customer's apartment. Seto would sing the whole score of Phantom of the Opera if that meant avoiding anymore unprecedented fists of fury. Hell, he'd even drag himself up off the stained carpet floors to act the whole Broadway musical out if he could be promised that violence would never again rear its ugly head. 

Regarding the trembling boy coolly, the heavyset individual allowed his grin to widen. "Nice memory you got there." complimented the older person, cocking his head to the side. Suddenly, the momentary kindness vanished from his face, replacing the sugary emotion with a look of deadly serenity. "Too bad it's not what I want from ya."

Nonchalantly, the consumer lifted a grimy hand, displaying the oily texture of his palm to Kaiba. Too horrified to take a breath, the dark-haired teen watched as his tormentor folded his fingers inward, forming his body part into a fist. Sapphire orbs followed the meaty limb's every movement, the blue eyes swinging slowly back and forth like they were under hypnosis. Silence reigned in the run-down passageway the males occupied, amplifying the anxiety-ridden beat of Seto's heart. 

Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump…

All the brown-haired boy could hear was the heavy hammering of his vital organ, the piece of internal flesh pounding so hard that even his bones began to vibrate. 

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Thump, thump, thump, thump…

With the knowledge that his client's limb was growing closer, the tall adolescent felt the cage of his chest begin to pound. He couldn't move, pull air into his lungs, or even bring himself to blink. All he did was stare at the tightly closed fist, waiting for the inevitable to occur. 

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Thump, thu-thu-thump, thump, thump, thu-thu-thump…

Truly starting to dread the impact that the man would have on him, the pale teen began to lose control of himself. Trepidation grabbed his vital organ, squeezing it with such terrible strength that his structure shivered with the hammering his upper body produced. How hard would the brutal bastard hit him? What kind of appalling marks would show afterwards? What believable lie would Seto have to invent to keep his brother from guessing the truth?

A wicked storm of questions flooded his mind, drowning his senses with the differences between right and wrong. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever, conveniently lying to his brother about every major laceration, discoloration of his skin, or scabbed over scars that would stay with him for life. Long-sleeved shirts were a permanent addition to his wardrobe, along with floor-length trench coats and waist-to-ankle dress pants. Wearing those garments gave others (during the day light hours, of course) the impression that he was little more than a hard-working professional, planning his next business meeting or investigating the rise and fall of the stock market. The formal clothes worked like a magical key for him, opening a treasure chest that had the mystical capability to make others believe that this was the only reputation he ever owned. Thinking that the illusion could last as long as he kept his nighttime activities to himself, Kaiba stuffed his lesser-known identity into that same chest. While the sun was shining in the sky, he never gave a second thought to what he would be subjecting himself to later on. Mokuba was by his side as he tended to their finances, so there wasn't any pressing need to reflect on his other detrimental duties. But when the outside world became darker…so did he. Shadows would actually creep across his legs and over his shoulders, circling round and round him like a boa constrictor hunting for dinner. After Seto compassionately tucked his sibling into bed with a lullaby (Mokuba refused to close his eyes until he heard one of his relative's songs), the eldest brother would drift into his own private chambers. There, behind the extravagantly papered walls, buried within the opulent compartments of his furniture, resided all of his secrets. Untold truths existed in the items he primped with, the costumes he flaunted, tip-toed around the cracks and crevices, even contaminated the cosmetics he applied to complete his streetwalker outfits. These belongings, even though they were inanimate, hovered above him like a beehive, precariously clinging to his ceiling. One day, he feared that his brother would uncover a curling iron, a tube of lipstick, or something even more damaging, a condemn. That's when the house of horror would drop onto his carpet, busting open the paper-thin exterior to generate a path for the swarms of winged creatures to escape out of. Seto anticipated tears to come forth, painful drops of water that would sting his sibling's eyes and drip off of the small cherub face he had. Questions, similar to what the blue-eyed boy was faced with now, would be plunged into Mokuba's too-young mind. What would Kaiba tell him? Another self-centered fabrication to keep his tail out of double jeopardy? That he was just saving some of Tea's dance clothes in storage per her request? As plausible as that excuse sounded, he was fully aware of the fact that his brother would accept any story to be true, even though it suggested critical faults. Mokuba was so innocent, naïve, just had so much faith and trust in his hot shot sibling that he worshipped Seto's very essence. To him, Kaiba was a certified saint, a big brother that was always right, a best friend that could do now wrong. The corporate executive was the first thought on his brain when he woke, the one individual he fantasized about becoming someday, and the only person he mentioned twice in his prayers nightly. 

__

/Little brother, I hope you prayed for me tonight. / Kaiba though quietly, closing his tired eyes. _/More than that, I hope there's actually someone out there who gives a damn enough to listen to your prayers. /_

Somehow, as if divine intervention had finally come to his rescue, he peered out from beneath his lengthy lashes and saw the dirty male stick out an index finger. Perplexed by the action, the blue-eyed teen observed as the male began to rub his visage. Cringing at the touch, the tall adolescent squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst to happen. 

__

/This is it, I'm going to die now…/ Seto panicked inwardly, forming his breathing into shallow gusts. _/He's going to strip me nude, take me right here in public, then leave my bleeding body in this hallway for his neighbors to find. Newspapers all over the world will contain my tragic, yet embarrassing case, and everyone will regret crossing my path. People in every nation will talk once all that information is exposed, and the personal status I fought to protect from the time I was born will be shattered. As for my brother…/ _Feeling the lies of his existence sting his eyes, he bit down hard on his tongue to keep himself from crying. _/He really _will _hate me, even in death. Mokuba won't even be able to tolerate hearing my name, since I've shamed him so much. He'll hate me for this. He'll _always _hate me for this. He'll_ _never _stop _hating me--/_

"Listen up, boy." ordered the dirt-covered male, loud enough to involve the other tenants in his abrupt confrontation with Kaiba. When the teenager at his feet didn't answer back, the client decided to add some pent-up rage to his words. "I'm talkin', child. If you know what's good for ya, you'll set your pretty lil' self up and hear me out."

__

/Oh, God, he wants me to watch while I'm being murdered…/

"I told ya what you should be doin'." the insensitive voice resounded once more, containing a chilling edge of steel to it.

__

/Please, no, not here…/

Mechanically, the blue-eyed boy was jarred to life by his captor's commands. He moved like a rusty robot that hadn't been injected with electricity for years, completing his actions with the absence of his usual grace and elegance. Drawing his legs up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them just so he could have the illusion of holding someone. In reality, he wished someone would take the time to hold him. Not in the family type fashion or in a friendly kind of way, but in the _other _form of affection. Maybe _that's _what he was missing all along: someone who would miss him when he was gone, kiss away his tears, stroke his hair with tenderness, listen to him sing without laughing sardonically at him. Someone who would care about him no matter what, that would treat him like the polar opposite of a leper, even if he happened to be one anyways. Could there be someone out there who would have no trouble sharing a beautiful romance with him? Could he, Seto, Kaiba, an advocate of uninterrupted loneliness and silence, dare to dream that there could be someone out there right now, waiting for him in a flower field blossoming with love?

__

/Too late for childish fantasies. Destiny calls…/

Ever so carefully, the dark-haired teen opened his eyes; his sight glazed over with the sadness of never knowing what it was like to treasure and cherishes another soul intimately. Hiding his emotions fervently, he wore a mask devoid of any real feeling. Awaiting the last phrases he would ever hear, Kaiba gazed into the vacant nightmares ahead of himself.

Content with the audience he was presented, the messy male began.

"In all my twenty years of livin' here, I never, ever got talked down to by a kid." Seeing how much Seto detested the insult of being referred to as a child, the man made a mental note to repeat it throughout his speech. "That's right, no little ones ever dared to cross me, not as much as you've done with me tonight. I'll admit that I let ya slide with that stupid remark ya made in my house--my _own _house, that is--and I regret that now. I should've hit you so hard for that, but I didn't. Then you claw at my door like some crazy hell cat demandin' me to hand over money I had no intention of givin' ya in the first place--"

"You _promised _me that I'd get at least eight hundred dollars for being with you!" interrupted Seto, thinking he had nothing else to lose. 

The older individual shook his head, the greasy blond strands of his hair so soiled that they stuck to his forehead. 

"Nu-uh, young one. I said--"

"Don't lie to me! I know what I heard!"

"Ya don't know when to shut up, do ya?" asked the other person, aggravated by the behavior Kaiba provided him. To prevent further interruptions, he snatched the high school adolescent's throat. Tightening his grasp around the middle of the boy's neck, he hauled the youth into a standing position. Struggling to free himself from the nasty clutches of his tormentor, Seto tried to wriggle out of the man's grasp. Amused by the look of worry on his product's face, the other male smile viciously. "Don't you try to get away from me, you little bitch. If you do, I'll track you down and snap this pencil neck of yours like I did my wife's."

"Y-you--You killed someone before?" asked the brown-haired teenager, his sapphire eyes disturbingly wide. 

"Yeah, you could say that." confessed the fiend, flashing his victim a toothless smile. "Some of you more smarter people might call it murder."

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Seto blurted out instinctively, wanting to confirm his suspicions at last. "You're going to kill me like you killed your wife, right?"

Glancing up at the dimly lit ceiling, the man appeared thoughtful for a moment. Methodically, he studied the uneven grooves jutting from overhead; their sharp tips seemed to resemble a countless array of broken bone. Dropping his line of sight to the light-skinned boy, he gently shook his head. 

"Naw, you must've gotten lucky today, kid." he finally said, acting as if he had bestowed a great and wonderful favor to his merchandise. Kaiba, who could hardly believe what he was hearing, stood stock-still. He was so surprised that he was being granted a second chance to live that he had to command himself not to let his jaw hang open. "Not in the mood for slaughterin' a kid. Hey, just 'cause I'm a criminal doesn't mean I don't have any ethics. That's none of you're business, no how. Anyways, I'm tired of dealin' with ya, so I'm gonna leave ya with this piece 'o advice." As if to stress his phrases even more, he leaned in closely to the schoolboy. The stench of his breath attacked Kaiba's senses, but he was too scared to cough. Eying the blue-eyed boy closely, the murderer spoke in a hushed whisper, "If I wanted to be a real asshole, I'd call the cops on ya and have them take ya away to the slammer. That'd be your home away from home, that tiny cell packed with other prisoners. You're just some little bratty bitch, and that's exactly what the hardened criminals will use ya for. You'll be in the nurse's office so much there, getting' stitches for your ass 'cause the inmates will fuck ya like the whore you never knew ya could be. Pretty sweeties like you don't last long there, ya know." The wild manner in which his black-as-coal eyes glinted made Seto's blood run at a temperature below freezing. "So," the man growled, his onyx orbs narrowed like two tiny slits on his visage, "this is my lil' bit 'o wisdom that I'm passin' down to you. Hear me well, 'cause I know you'll be back out on the streets after I'm through with ya here." 

To make sure his audience was still interested in his words, he allowed his fingers to tense on his product's Adam's apple. This helped to renew the dark-haired male's terror, for he gasped and choked, practically tearing at the man's stubby hands. 

__

"You said you wouldn't kill me--"

"Shut the fuck up and _listen_, boy. You're not goin' anywhere 'til I tell ya what I have to. Wherever you are in life, whatever the hell you're doin', don't ever make a habit outta pissin' people off. Understand?" Frightened that his windpipe would give out soon, the brown-haired adolescent nodded emphatically. "I mean it, you born smart-ass, don't you go around makin' enemies outta everyone ya cross. If you do--" Mercilessly, he threw the blue-eyed male away from himself, observing with demented delight as the school boy landed a few feet away from himself. "you just might get a dose of your own damn medicine."

Massaging his swollen flesh, the tall teen caught a glimpse of his client shuffling back into his rat-infested hell. Shadows, the depressing gloom that weighed on Kaiba's conscience at his mansion, had engulfed the figure of the customer who tried to scare him straight. When he was fully capable of breathing at a normal rate again, the light-skinned male pulled himself into a more decent pose. Anything would have looked better than him being down on all fours with his rear end sticking up in the air, appearing to be a new centerfold for a porn mag. Comfortably situated, he brought his knees together and draped his arms around them once more. 

"I'm sorry, Mokuba…" he mumbled incoherently to himself, toying with the last and final ribbon of sanity he possessed. "I failed you again. Why I keep failing you, I don't know, but I do."

Lifting his gaze, he stared off into the distance of the hallway. The base of his throat burned badly, but he couldn't do a thing to halt the pain. His customer had really marred his features, with finger marks circling his neck like a ring of fire. Either that, or an invisible leash. Both suited him just fine, he supposed. Upon bringing a shaky hand to his face, he found that his cheek had been tenderized as well. By morning, his normally cream-colored skin would be warped into some repulsive shade of black, blue, or purple. Maybe all three, if he was really lucky this time. 

__

/Everyone's going to ask me how I got them, though. / he realized, wincing terribly when he applied any pressure to his slender face. _/All the foundation in the world won't be able to cover this one up. What am I going to do? Lie some more? / _ Sapphire eyes, troubled with the well of tears building up behind their lids, forced themselves to blink. Their rivers of sorrow retreated, stored for another day and time when they would be needed most. He couldn't see allowing himself to cry, even if it felt like the most logical action to take at the moment. _/No wonder I can't find anyone to love me. That man was right back there, telling me all those things. I'm such an anti-social bitch that no one can ever find me desirable…because I'm just not. / _Hugging himself tightly, he buried his head in his lap. _/I hate me; too…I'll _always _hate me. / _Sniffling back an unwanted tear, Seto asked himself, _/Why? Why must I always be this way? / _A sea of questions tore at him, ripping his mind apart like the jaws of a shark. He couldn't think, form adequate, literate thoughts, or even make any real sense to himself. The more he asked "Why?", the more he found himself drowning in his own delusional world of shadows that deception produced for him. _/Why can't I be a good brother or a friend to anyone? Why must I always tread in the waters of double jeopardy? /_


	4. Alice In Wonderland

Chapter Four: Alice In Wonderland

"Hey you!" the bus driver yelled, his voice cutting through the somber chatting of his passengers, "Ya comin' or just hangin' out?"

Appearing to be disinterested by the man's words, the shadowy figure stood quietly.

"Ya could at least answer me, ya know!" the vehicle's operator shouted. 

He was offended by the lackluster response, but didn't dare reveal that much to the person on the pavement. For all he knew, the unresponsive individual could be a drug addict tripping out. Or at least a substance abuser looking for another high. Crack heads like that were so common in this part of town these days, the walking dead who dragged themselves through the streets at night with wide, vacant eyes, harassing every bystander in sight for a possible joint or two. 

"Well," the adult called out into the night, "there's still a few seats left on this ride if ya want one." Squinting at the dark shape, he searched for any sign of movement, some sort of detectable motion that would tell him that he wasn't wasting his breath. "C'mon, man, I don't have all the time in the world right now. I got an ass load of people to pick up and drop off yet, so don't make my job any harder than it already is."

Remaining silent, the black form showed no indication of leaving. 

Slightly bothered by the eerie stillness, the bus driver started to shut the door of the massive Greyhound. "Can't stay here and wait until hell freezes over for you to make a decision. Like they say, 'I've got places to go and people to see,' if ya know what I mean." As he revved up the engine to take off, he added, "Hope you're not waitin' 'round for another bus to come through. I'm the only one left out here, doin' the last runnin' of the evenin', so it's either my way or the highway--"

Before the glass blind could close, a pair of white boots boarded the platform of stairs. He surveyed the showy merchandise, accessories that he decided were very appealing, all except for the lengthy heels scraping the steps. The shoes looked like they had white stilts attached to them for stiletto height, something that was supposed to make the footgear look sexy, but instead gave them a very lethal appearance. 

__

/Aw…shit_! / _the driver cursed to himself, regretting the fact that he talked some lion tamer into using public transportation. _/_Tell _me that I didn't pick up some drugged out freak just now! I thought that they weren't even listenin' to me talk to them! Why me? How come I get all the weird asses on my route? Why do I always come across all the child molesters here--/_

Emerging from the darkness of the metropolis, a young boy shuffled onto the transit, listless and completely out of touch with reality. He kept his head arched between his shoulders and avoided eye contact at all costs, staring at the floor beneath his feet blankly. His attire, an expensive combination of onyx and pearl leather, was badly mangled and torn in awkward locations. How the ornate outfit was holding together on the adolescent's skin was a complete mystery to the man, for he half-expected the skimpy pieces to unravel at any given moment. 

"Um, you can just go ahead an' find yourself a seat back there." the driver said, gesturing behind himself with an outstretched thumb. "It ain't the Ritz, but it's better than runnin' in to some crazy bastard out there."

Tensing at the last statement he heard, the teenage street orphan balled a limb up into a tight fist.

"Hey, I didn't mean anythin' by it." the adult said softly, hoping that he could get the child to relax. "Just settle down and get ya a place to sit. I'll take care of everythin' else for ya--"

Lifting his line of sight, the adolescent gazed at the driver with large sapphire orbs, an action that took the older male by surprise. Holding out his trembling fist, the brown-haired boy opened his limb, revealing a stack of twenty-dollar bills. Astounded by the large amount of cash, the man gaped at the pile of money, commanding himself over and over again not to let a line of drool seep through his teeth. Never in his life had he been offered that much dough by his supervisor, let alone his wife when they had split up seven years ago. 

__

/So where does a kid like this get that kinda money? / he asked himself, raking his fingers through his disheveled tresses. _/How's he able to rack up change like that and hand it to me without even battin' an eye? This boy's either very rich, insane, or--/_

Slowly, the older male examined the teenager's exterior again, searching for a rhyme or reason to the quantity of currency in the child's possession. He saw the clothes clinging for dear life on the teenager's body, studied the costume jewelry hanging on the skinny arms and legs, all while trying not to show any emotion when he happened upon an array of scars and cuts. Quickly looking away from the clusters of gashes, he raised his eyes to the boy's face. That was the worst part of the whole get-up, the visage, which was littered with so many tear streaks and bruises that the features resembled a preschooler's version of a roadmap. Those major marks of self-destruction were hidden under layers of foundation and sparkly colors, but they were still there, plain as day to the driver. How many times had he seen some over-dressed billboard like this kid walking down the street, advertising their bodies like a ghetto hotel room? That's when it hit the man--this wasn't some abandoned urchin looking for a room to stay in for the night. Glittery make-up on the face, flimsy garments, styled tresses, perfectly polished nails…this wasn't just any child, he was also a--

Disturbed by the realization he arrived at, the driver tore his eyes away from the alluring sum before him. "I can't accept that." he said, hating how he was turning down the cash he saw.

The boy's hand came closer to the adult, pushing the heap of bills towards the driver. Underneath the void of emotions, the teen's visage was so overwhelmed with sorrow that the man wondered how the unstable thing could stand before him without falling to the ground in fits of tears. Reaching out to the shaky adolescent, the operator set his fingers on top of the money-wielding limb. Gradually, he folded the boy's hand, concealing the mound of wealth.

"Don't worry 'bout the charges, son." the driver informed his new rider, patting the young teen's skin while offering him a smile. "It's on the house."

Though the expression on the boy's face changed from impassive to quizzical, he remained motionless.

"That means you don't have to give me anythin' for the whole time you're with me, son."

**__**

/Talking to myself in public./

At last, the mute schoolboy's lips moved, forming his first phrase in the late hour. "It doesn't matter _who _I happen to be with, because I _always_ give something up in the end." The caustic statement was intended for himself to hear more than the operator, for it was a vocalization that he thought he deserved to hear.

__

/I wish he would have just taken the money. / the brown-haired child muttered inaudibly to himself as he gazed off into space. _/That way I wouldn't have to be reminded of how much I got short-changed from my last appointment. I guess he knows it's dirty money, though--/_

**__**

/Dodging glances on the train./

Leaving the man to his vehicle steering, the blue-eyed boy sauntered over to a group of seats, all of which happened to be located in the very back of the bus. As he staggered down the aisle of the transit, he caught a glimpse of some passengers staring at him, shaking their heads, ducking down to whisper words to their friends that he was sure had something to do with his outward style. 

**__**

/And I know, I know they've all been talking 'bout me./

"Do you see him?" a woman asked, nudging the male to her left. Though she spoke in a hushed voice, Kaiba could still hear every word she uttered. "That child over there?"

"You mean the drag queen?" the guy in the drab suit replied, loosening his tie. "What about him?"

"Don't you feel sorry for him?"

"Why should I?" inquired the male callously, rubbing his liberated neck. Office work had a tendency to bring out the worst in him sometimes. "I've got my own problems to deal with." Peering over at his secretary with a lazy eye, he questioned, "Don't you have anything else to worry about than some kid who needs to be put out of his misery?"

**__**

/I can hear them whisper./

Cringing at the acerbic dialogue, Seto pretended that he didn't hear any of the professional couple's remarks. He just kept on moving, dragging himself through the dimly lit walkway with his head hanging in total dejection. It wasn't long before he heard another conversation of harsh murmurs, horribly formed statements that rivaled the ones he had just eavesdropped on. 

"Mommy, he looks funny!" a little girl giggled, tugging on her parent's shirt to get their attention.

Though it was a terrible mistake, the blue-eyed boy shifted his vision to the right. A mother and her daughter were sitting together, holding hands with their backs to the windows. The little pig-tailed child had bright green eyes, sparkling with a naturally mischievous nature. Relentlessly, she poked the calm adult adjacent to her, attempting to get her relative to notice her.

"You gotta see him!" she started to whine, pulling on Mommy Dearest's apparel with both hands now. "He looks like sister does!"

Gently removing her daughter's fingers from her outfit, Mommy whispered, "Stop being so loud. You know better than to talk about people like that."

"But he's so weird and--"

"Janette!" the woman chastised, looking a bit more ruffled each time she spoke. "Watch your language here!"

Sticking out her lower lip, the energetic adolescent began to pout. Crossing her arms in a huffy manner, she snapped darkly, "It's not _my_ fault he looks so ugly."

**__**

/And it makes me thing there's something wrong with me/

Gritting her teeth, the parent shot a menacing look at her daughter, a sight so terrible that the child actually flinched. It was quite clear what would become of the young one if she couldn't contain herself in public. Pleased that her staged expression had the desired affect on her offspring, the adult glanced up in triumph, only to be struck by the sight of Seto's drawn features. Blushing in embarrassment, she shifted her gaze to the office workers he had passed, acting as if she were deeply fascinated by their weary faces. Honestly, she knew that Kaiba had been listening in on her disciplinary session with her youngster, but chose to dismiss the entire matter from her mind. She would be successful in forgetting the shameful insults that her child made, but he wouldn't. Those corrosive outbursts would follow him around forever, taunting him, teasing his brain, weighing on his conscience until he could break free from the shady snake he knew his existence to be. 

**__**

/Out of all the hours thinking somehow--/

__

/They're all right, you know. / the devastating voice ridiculed, sounding as ruthless as ever. _/Especially the girl, except you're more than just plain 'ugly'--/_

Without objecting to the mocking accent, the blue-eyed boy fell into an open chair. Thankfully, he was in an isolated location on the transit, so he didn't have to suffer the humiliation of watching any nearby customers get up and leave because he was residing there. Bringing his legs up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around himself, felt a false sense of security, and lifted his eyes to the window he was by. 

/--you're downright hideous_. / _the tone spat contemptuously, enjoying the power it had over the depressed teen. _/Everyone thinks that, even little kids who don't know you. They're so disgusted by you that they treat you like a walking joke. /_

"But I've never spoken to them!" the tall teen protested quietly, starting to dissociate from reality. "They've no reason to hate me!"

__

/You're such an idiot. / his head voice shot back with a ready supply of venom. _/Only a childish moron would believe that someone like you could be liked. /_

"No, it's not true…" moaned Seto, rocking back and forth in his seat. Though he hadn't noticed it, he had regressed back into his helpless self, a personality that betrayed behavior equivalent to a kindergartener's. 

__

/Stop being such a stupid crybaby and face the facts. Nobody likes you, they sure as hell don't give a damn about you--/

"St-Stop it." begged the teen with dark tresses, on the verge of a psychological breakdown. "Don't--don't tell me--"

__

/--and they're never _going to love you. Not now--/_

"Shut up, just shut up already." pleaded the blue-eyed boy, feeling the nervous eyes of some of the travelers on him. The longer the people continued to leer at him, the more he felt like a reject of society.

__

/--and not ever. / his scornful conscience badgered, emphasizing Seto's failure at romance with a chorus of chanting. _/_Never. _Do you hear me, you whiny bitch? _Never. _Never_ ever. _Not now, and certainly not any time soon. Understand the concept yet? You will _never_, _ever_--/_

"You don't know that!" whispered the tall teen, shutting his lids. At least he wouldn't have to evade the worried glances of the other riders now. "There's someone for everyone, there _has _to be!"

Cruel cackling reverberated inside of his head, forcing waves of shivers to crawl through his skin. _/Is _that _what you really believe? / _the cold accent jeered, very entertained by the response it received. _/I see you need a small reminder of how people consider you as a person or object, whichever comes first. /_

"No, not again!" cried Seto, wells of water burning beneath his lids. "I can't live through that again!"

Brutally, his mind was overwhelmed with conversations, bits and pieces of discussions he had just recently been slapped with. The painful dialogue of the secretary and her supervisor crept into his brain for starters--

__

/Don't you feel sorry for him? /

__

/You mean the drag queen? /

__

/Don't you have anything else to worry about than some kid who needs to be put out of his misery? /

--followed by the rude commentary of someone who couldn't have been older than five years old. For some reason, the cruel insults the child said about him stung worse than what the professional couple vocalized.

__

/Mommy, he looks funny! /

/He's so weird--/

/It's not my _fault he looks so ugly! /_

Even the phrases of his last client haunted him, destroying his senses with fear.

__

/You little snot-nosed brat! /

/When you're in my _house, you do what _I _want. /_

That's all he ever had the hope and promise of being, a trampled toy to get passed back and forth between the ravenous ravens of the city, an oversized sex machine for men older than the alleys to use and abuse--

__

/I reckon I gave you just about what you deserved. /

/--you little bitch. /

/I'll track you down and snap this pencil neck of yours. /

Threats never ceased to override his judgment and scare him to no logical end. They frightened Kaiba, actually _terrorized_ him with radical notions and visions so sick that he had trouble keeping himself from being consumed by the statements. What if one of his consumers made good on their promise, followed him home, and had their way with him in his own house? Could there be a soul so twisted out there that they would kill him and fondle his brother over his dead body? That was by far his worst fear ever--getting assaulted at his mansion, being murdered, then having his fresh corpse serve as a bed for the pervert and his sibling. He could just see it now--the crying spells, blood, instruments of his demise, one dirty hand choking him while another molested Mokuba's innocent frame--it was all too real of a nightmare for him to imagine, much less experience first-hand. Listening to the sound of his shallow breathing, he felt the rhythmic voices pulse through his veins, forcing the inside of his brain to hear the savage music that was created.

__

/Mommy, he looks funny! /

__

/Don't you feel sorry for him? /

__

/It's not my _fault he looks so ugly! /_

/When you're in my _house, you do what _I _want. /_

/He's so weird_--/_

Swarming around him like an angry group of starved locusts, the demons in his head feasted on his fragile ego while growing even louder--

/--you little bitch. /

/Don't you have anything else to worry about than some kid who needs to be put out of his misery? /

/I reckon I gave you just about what you deserved. /

/You little snot-nosed brat! /

/I'll track you down and snap this pencil neck of yours. /

Without warning, he stuck his arm behind him, yanking on the yellow cord he held so hard that part of its wiring began to unravel. Heedless of the damage done to the bus, he jumped to his feet just as the vehicle came to a screeching halt. He hurried down the unfriendly aisle of passengers, making a beeline for the door of the Greyhound. 

__

"I want out of here!" he cried, nearly tripping down the steps of the transit. _"Let me out! I want out!"_

As soon as the glass blind revealed a sliver of the outside world, he vanished into the darkness of the night. Shadows, all around him were those shady creatures of the streets, swallowing him whole, molding him into a wayward victim of the metropolis. Picking up his pace, he started to fly across the sidewalks, running so fast that he idly wondered if a car would come speeding down the road and hit him as he jaywalked. Municipal buildings, stores, and even some flashy churches whizzed by his line of sight as he sprinted through the downtown area, combining themselves to appear like a huge abstract oil painting. He didn't know where he was going, how to get there, or even clearly grasped what he was doing. All the Seto comprehended was the grave emotional trauma his voices imposed on him. Escape, he wanted so badly to run away from it all so he could have his life back, the existence that never knew pain or suffering, the lifestyle of the celebrated businessman who only had to worry about creating the latest PC upgrades. 

Yearning to make new memories similar to that of his brother playing with him at a playground, the executive didn't even become aware of the fact that he had take a wrong turn. Stopping to catch his breath, Kaiba leaned against a brick surface, hauling great gusts of air in and out of his lungs. 

"Uhnn…" moaned the tall teen in exhaustion, his legs throbbing from the sudden marathon. "I feel like hell."

"You look like it, too." a voice commented, chilling Seto to the bone. "Like a stray in an alleyway."

"Who's there?" asked the blue-eyed boy, desperately attempting to remain calm under the harrowing circumstances. "What do you want?"

"Just you, Princess." the cold tone replied, echoing through the heavily littered corridor. "Just you."

Swallowing a lump of anxiety down his throat, the teen threw out, "If it's cash you're after, you can have everything on me if you just leave me alone!"

"Can't do that."

"Why not?"

" 'Cuz it's not what I want…at least not from you." the accent answered simply.

His old nemesis paranoia was troubling him again, haunting him like an unwanted ghost. "What _do_ you want?" asked Kaiba hesitantly, unable to mask the fear he felt any longer.

Instantaneously, someone seized him by the shoulders, pushing him backwards on the pavement. Before his mind was able to register any pain of the fall, he was flipped onto his back, nailed to the ground by two powerful palms, and slapped so fiercely that he was literally seeing stars. 

"Don't zone out on me just yet, Kitten." his attacker purred into his ear, hot breath scalding his flesh. "I want you to enjoy whatever happens."

"Whaa--?" was all the tall teen could say, barely even conscious.

"Don't play coy with me, Baby."

"What--Who's there?"

"Alice." replied the aggressive person, tearing off the remainder of Seto's attire. Jerking the boy's legs apart, he positioned his anatomy over his playmate's passage. "And you're Wonderland. I want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes."

**__**

/ --I've lost my mind/


	5. Tears of the Sun

Chapter Five: Tears of the Sun

"Whatchya got there, Sangre?" 

Glancing over his shoulder, Seto's aggressor saw one of his running mates. "Why, you interested in a little dessert tonight?" he asked, flashing his cohort a nasty grin. 

"Maybe." replied the hidden individual, lurking in the darkness. "You never know."

"That's true. With you I can never tell."

"So am I just too much for you to handle?" 

Shaking his head from side to side, Sangre said, "No, but you _are _a huge pain in the ass, if that means anything to you."

Laughter, cruel and horrendous, surrounded Kaiba like the wind of death. Through blurred vision, he caught a glimpse of a male rounding the corner of a building. This was another rat that looked like his mother had given birth to him straight on the street, which was probably dropped on the head one too many times by his own biological parent. He strolled over to his friend in a casual manner, treating the entire scenario of attempted rape like a restaurant that promised him the finest fixings. Maybe that's all assault was to him, some scrumptious buffet of fruits for him to sample, lined up in a bound and broken serving line with every necessary trimming at his beck and call. 

Casting a ravenous gaze on the blue-eyed child, the newcomer asked, "So, what's on the menu tonight?"

"Something warm and still moving." responded the man who held the tall teen down. 

"Mmm, that's just how I like my steak."

"You're in luck then, Karasu. This one's your fresh pick of the day."

Karasu, who had set his head on his accomplice's shoulder, leered at Seto through an oily mass of black bangs. His toothless sneer was chilling enough to make the grim reaper cower before him. He licked his chapped lips, skin that was so dry that a tiny line of red dribbled from the torn tissue. With a flick of his serpent-like tongue, he lapped up the blood, painting his dingy teeth with it. 

"So, who's the tyke?" asked the onyx-haired man, reaching over his companion. Carelessly, he slipped a hand down the child's thigh, relishing the feel of cool flesh underneath his fingertips. 

"Just some crazy idiot of a kid." answered Sangre ambiguously. Mimicking his friend's lust-driven conduct, he pressed his bulky frame against Kaiba's. 

**__**

/But I'm not crazy/

"I--I'm _not _crazy--" gurgled Seto unintelligibly, the words sticking to his throat in an adhesive-based language.

"Then what do ya call stumblin' into our turf at three in the mornin'?" one of the adults inquired dryly, letting his limbs scope out the nether regions of his doll's structure. "Bein' smart as can be?"

**__**

/I'm just a little unwell/

"No," said the sapphire-eyed boy, looking up at his attacker with a dazed expression. He lifted his lips and molded his mouth into a distant smile, totally absorbing himself in the reliable excuse he formed over the years. "I'm not crazy. Just a little unwell, but not crazy."

"And how do ya figure _that _to be true?"

**__**

/I know right now you can't tell. /

"Because I'm a good person." replied the brown-haired boy, disconnecting himself from the present situation. "Really, I am. I'm not naturally this way, it's just that--that--"

**__**

/But stay a while and maybe then you'll see/

Every time he spoke, it was almost as if he had placed himself on trial, trying to convince a jury of biased citizens to believe the same as him. Although he was pleading innocent, he felt innately guilty; ashamed for who he was, afraid that the allegations brought against him were real. He heard the wavering quality of his voice, felt the restless shifting of his eyes, and knew immediately that his testimony was as transparent as his status of a self-respecting capitalist. Truth be told, he didn't even deserve to be listened to. This was blatant perjury, an offense serious enough to lock him away for life on. Charges, so many accusations were made of him these days, telltale signs that whispered the beginnings of a hardened criminal. An executioner's ax was hanging over his neck, fully prepared to separate his head from his body. Nevertheless, he kept on choking out his statements, attempting to win the judge's favor, biding time until cold steel came down and delivered the ultimate punishment to him. 

**__**

/a different side of me. /

"--I've tried so much to please everyone around me. I can be good, I know I can be. If I was given the chance to show others that, I know I'd be able to." The more he talked, the more he sounded like he was begging for approval, entreating the men to change their perspectives on him so that they would lower their sharp blades. 

Rather than change positions or agree with the frantic adolescent, the males simply exchanged sinister grins. 

**__**

/I'm not crazy/

One of the tormentors emitted a low whistle, imitating the noise a cuckoo clock made. "You're right, this one's pretty far out there."

**__**

/I'm just a little impaired/

"About seven cans short of a six-pack, if you know what I'm getting at." murmured the other loudly. "Glad he's not _my _problem."

Their derisive opinions hit Seto's heart like an arrow of ice. What happened to the sympathy people were supposed to have for one another? Where was that wealth of human decency and consideration that pop idols illustrated with wonderful catch phrases on the radio? And love…where _was_ all the love pastors on television preached about, the spiritual enlightenment of the soul that every one of God's lambs possessed?

**__**

/I know right now you don't care/

__

/Not here. / Kaiba thought wistfully, the familiar emptiness inside himself expanding. _/Having faith in something, belonging somewhere, being worthwhile to someone…it's a lie. /_ He stared unresponsively at the green and clear shards of glass beside his visage, repeating over and over again in his head what he believed the truth to be. _/Every bit of it is nothing but a story with a terrible ending, a marriage of drunken gamblers in Las Vegas, a birth of unwanted children who wished they never came out of their mother's womb. Dreams, fantasies, hopes--even love--they're all falsehoods. Childish fabrications. Just a cache of vindictive tricks and lies. /_

/Glad you see things my _way now. / _his oh-so brilliant conscience chimed in, adding its scathing wordplay to the storm of mixed emotions. _/ Didn't I tell you that those were all irrational illusions perpetrated by fairy tales? Don't you remember me saying that life's not like the board game Candy Land? /_

/I know it's not now. / the tall teen whispered to himself, watching his reflection in the broken beer bottles. In the colorful man-produced materials, he could see a child's face peering back at him. This visage, with its bright cobalt orbs and pure, untouched features, served as a glimpse of what he had been. That pretty boy image was something he lost so long ago, something he knew he'd never be able to retain. _/I know there's no such thing as any of that because I've never come across those abstractions in my existence. I never have--/ _Numb to the assailants violating his frame, to the grimy corners of Domino City, just whole-heartedly _devoid_ of any real attachment to the world in general, he left his mind to the mercy of his head voice. 

__

/--and never will. / finished the pitiless tone, so gentle in its assertion that it resonated through Seto's head like a runaway freight train. _/And you never, ever will. /_

"Poor Little Red Riding Hood." Sangre purred at the tall teen, randomly sticking his tongue into the ear of someone who had just about seen and heard it all. "Looks like ya wandered into the wrong neck of the woods lookin' for Grandma's house."

"We'll be quick." promised Karasu, undoing the button on his pants. "That way, she won't have to wait up for ya too long." 

__

/Yes, just go along with it all. / Kaiba's helpful accent threw in. _/This is all you're good for, so give yourself up. /_

**__**

/But soon enough you're gonna think of me/

Somewhere in his memory, in a place that had lost all sense of time and direction, resided a pair of gates. He imagined himself there, in the mists of hazy space, seeing the glint of the newly polished metal. It was a location he had visited once upon a time with his brother, a site that came ever so close to the great myths and legends he had read about in books. Out of all the pain and suffering, hurt and distrust, came to him the recollection of a single occasion. Mokuba was with him, and they were laughing together. There was sunshine in the meadow that day, and the children had soft smiles on their faces as they ran through patches of flowers that their mother used to love. Sunshine lit up their features as the warm rays flowed through their hair, golden petals on the wind that made them feel like they were in heaven. Happiness…angels in ethereal realms, the two cherubs on earth were happy for once. There the sweet little seraphs were, bounding through the emerald stalks, searching for the wings that their mommy promised them they'd grow someday… 

__

/Could today be the day? / Seto asked himself, privately reciting a line from a tragically beautiful movie. _/Are you ready to fly? /_

/Give yourself up now. / repeated his cold conscience, demanding attention. _/Surrender to them. Hand yourself over already. /_

And then there was nothing. Fear, wonder, doubt, remorse, self-hatred…all of it was gone, the entire package of negativity, swept into his hand and pulled towards his mouth. In a passing moment, he looked at the harmful ashes. He saw his contemporary self, someone just struggling to get by, a teenager with no one to guide him or help him through his wasted existence. As he blinked, he caught sight of another individual, this one an older adaptation of himself who lacked a meaningful identity. But behind those useless selves, those inadequate slaves of trial and error, an ideal character rested. The innocent one was there, the lovable and caring personality, the spirit of uncontaminated youth that Kaiba desired to hold on to, but could never seem to keep in his grasp. The child in his heart resembled a crystal, a shining jewel with a healthy glow, so rich and vibrant and full of life that it begged to be let out once more. It was a disposition that longed for Mokuba's hand, who wanted to swing so high on a swing set that they could soar to the clouds, that spent every second of their free time making up whimsical riddles that made no sense whatsoever. 

__

/Sunlight…/ breathed the blue-eyed boy, approaching the reminiscing gates in the distance. _/I want to taste the fresh air of the saints again…/_

Little Red Riding Hood, who had traveled through bad parts of the concrete forest known as Domino City, let Granny's basket of prayers spill out over the pavement. Trapped in the clutches of twin Big Bad Wolves, the hero of the fable felt his long and agonizing journey come to an end. Before him, the golden gates opened up, revealing the landscape of his former nature, the poetry of his soul, everything he needed and wanted to be. Wildflowers…in every possible direction the multihued blossoms poked their heads out of the grass. They swayed to and fro in the breeze, welcoming him with their friendly leaves, beckoning him with their bobbing heads. And in the middle of it all was Mokuba, his sibling, his life-long friend and playmate, running up to him just to say hello. That's when Kaiba got his wish, when he clasped hands with his brother, lifted his head to the puffy white cotton balls above, and felt the yellow rays enter his system with every breath he took. For the first time in many years, he was able to taste the tears of the sun; the vigorous beams of life that he never thought would grace him again. Hand in hand at last, Seto smiled back at his relative with genuine joy, then raced off in the field of dreams they both knew and loved so well. 

**__**

/And how I used to be. /


	6. Roses and Wine

Chapter Six: Roses and Wine

**__**

/I've been talking in my sleep. /

"Looky what I made!" the longhaired child cried, proudly displaying his craft of the day.

Gingerly, Kaiba took his brother's thoughtful project into his hands. He was careful not to crush any of the flowers on the garland; particularly the small purple buds just beginning to bloom. 

"It's pretty." the blue-eyed boy commented, patting his sibling on the head. "This is one of the best things I've ever seen you make."

Mokuba beamed a smile. "You really think so?"

The other relative nodded his head. "I can see the effort you poured into making it. Very admirable, if I do say so myself."

"That's 'cuz I tried so hard to get everything right." Motioning with his forefinger, he directed his family member's attention to the details of his handiwork. "It wasn't that bad to put together. All I had trouble with was finding these kinda plants here." he explained, pointing to a layer of tiny wine colored roses. "I had to make sure there weren't any bugs in 'em or stuff like that."

"You made it for Mom, didn't you?" inquired the brown-haired adolescent, catching on to the hidden value of the head wreath.

Indigo eyes gave Seto a puzzled look. "How'd ya know that?"

"Because she always loved roses." answered Kaiba, handing the fairy-like accessory back to Mokuba. With a secret grin, he added, "Especially red ones."

"Okay, ya got me on that!" giggled the shorter youngster, toying with a stream of milky ribbons. His laughter surpassed the appeal of a perfectly tuned choir, the notes of his simplicity mirroring the quality of classical music. "It's true, the whole thing's for her!" 

"She'll love it."

Suddenly, the blue-haired child's face grew serious. "Will she really?" he asked, his big, dark orbs filled with apprehension.

Lovingly, Seto wrapped his arms around his little brother's body. "I know she will." he whispered soothingly, his voice resembling the tranquil swish that waves produced. "Matter of fact, I'm _positive_ she will."

"But how can you be so sure?"

Turning his head towards the sky, Kaiba appeared to be in deep thought. A multitude of clouds floated over him and his sibling, nomadic cotton candy fluff that resembled the breath of ancient spirits. Daydreaming, he pictured the snow above them as feathers, an immense symphony of whites and grays that an animated conductor composed. Inadvertently, he widened his smile, gazing at the celestial attributes with the naïveté of a child, but saw the entire atmosphere through the eyes of a romanticist. He was the author of even the most inarticulate of souls, who had the logic and reasoning of an adult, but chose to possess a tongue similar to a troubadour's poetic speech. Opening his mouth, he dipped his tongue into the bounty of sunshine, inhaled the intoxicating scent of roses and wine, then let the cornucopia of his lyrical imaginings flow from his mouth like ink from a fountain pen. 

**__**

/Pretty soon they'll come to get me. /

"I can hear her whispering to me, that's why." the eldest brother revealed, closing his eyes. "It's the voice of an angel, a good spirit, so compassionate and sensitive that it billows out from the heavens just to call our names."

Straining his ears, the longhaired boy listened as carefully as he could. Birds chirped in the branches of the willows, communicating with one another by resounding their archangel trumpets. The trickling of a nearby river served as the winged creature's accompaniment, peaceful sound effects for the children meditating on the philosophy of their mother's love. There _did _happen to be strange rustling noises in the air, but when he shifted his eyes towards a collection of sunflowers, he found it was only a rabbit seeking a spot to doze at. 

Frowning, the shorter male ducked his head, occupying himself by constructing another decoration. "That's just a bunny in the leaves." Mokuba said, looping a silky strand around his finger. Every time he did that, the other strings came undone. "Mommy can't be with us anymore, and--" 

A graceful hand held his chin and tipped his face up, allowing him to peer into a set of sapphire orbs. Indigo eyes fell, too reluctant to view the other male, attempting to avoid the expression of disappointment that his sibling had to be wearing. If there was anything he truly reviled, it was dissatisfying his relative. 

"I know how you feel," whispered the taller person, "but that's not true."

"She died, though! Mom just went off and left us here!"

"Do you honestly think she wanted to?"

"Yes, no, maybe so--" 

Confused by the quantity of emotions swimming in his mind, he ceased all movement. Nothing made sense to him at the moment. It appeared to him that they were speaking in wild tongues, two totally different languages that neither of them could relate to or even comprehend. Although the longhaired boy was standing right next to his brother, he felt as if he were worlds apart from him, on some sort of distant soil unheard of by earth.

"Don't be afraid." Seto said quietly, embracing the smaller boy. His hand stroked the adolescent's blue-gray tresses calmly, affectionately, so very delicately that it resembled the touch of Mother Mary. "As long as you're with me, you're never alone."

Drifting in the blank abyss of the Milky Way, Mokuba saw the shooting star of his sibling's words, full of glittering hopes and promises. "You mean it?" he asked in a small tone, clinging to the remnants of his composure. 

He couldn't break the heartfelt mood by crying. His relative would despise it if he did that, even if there _were_ a few tears bubbling beneath his lids. That was okay, though. Someway, somehow, he'd find a way to suppress them. Anything for his older brother, just as long as he said--

"I love you, niisan." Kaiba whispered lovingly, squeezing the slender frame his arms encircled. "And nothing will ever change that."

"Really?"

Cracking a slanted smile, the elder individual replied, "Really, really."

"And you'll never leave me?"

Seto gave a slight shake of his head.

"How do I know you won't, though?"

Again, the taller male grinned. He'd been expecting the doubtful thought to arise from his family member's throat. Dropping his limbs to his sides, he fell to one knee and faced his relative with a raised palm.

"Because I'm going to make you a promise." the brown-haired person answered, his blue eyes flickering with untold secrets.

Puzzled, Mokuba cocked his head at an angle. "What kind of a promise?"

Expanding the width of his smile, Kaiba folded his fingers down until just one of them was left standing. 

"This kind." explained the blue-eyed boy, wiggling his smallest pointer. "It will be something we can _both_ swear by. That way, neither of us can go back on what we declared. Want to give it a try?"

Moving his head up and down, the shorter individual exclaimed, "Let's do it, then!"

At the same time, the two brothers locked pinkies together, beaming at one another as they did it.

"I'll always do whatever I can to make you happy!" vowed the younger person, bouncing a bit as he formed his statements. "That means I'm not gonna get mud all over the house when it rains, or bring stray kitties home, or puppies, or lizards, or pick up crawly things, or, or--"

Seto chuckled, a pleasant effect that served as a fading symbol of his youth. "Alright, alright, I get the picture already!" Using a free hand to cover his mouth, he tried to keep his body steady without being overwhelmed by giggles. "That's good enough!"

"Then I guess it's your turn now." responded the longhaired child.

As his laughter subsided, the brown-haired male glanced at his sibling's face. The petite features gazed at him with unspoken skepticism, studying his gestures, anticipating the phrases soon to be spoken. He could tell from his relative's appearance that he was still cynical about everything, what they were doing, how they could possibly believe everything would be fine once they poured out their heart and soul. Mokuba had been hurt so much in the past, mainly by those he cared the most for. It would devastate him to be lied to again. But this was different from the trials of trauma he had endured throughout his existence, for it would revolutionize the manner in which he would be raised. This was more than just wishful thinking, it would prove to be a cornerstone of his faith, a reason for living, something that he could look back on and appreciate. Most importantly, Kaiba's words were intended to give Mokuba something to hold on to. Setting his limb on his brother's shoulder, Seto wet his lips, preparing himself to speak.

"I give you my entire being, all that I have to offer, everything that I have and own." Staring directly into his relative's eyes, his lids betrayed a funny tingling, a sensation he only knew the day their mother perished. "My life is yours, and I dedicate it towards your well-being. I'll do anything for you, Mokuba, and you know that much. Don't think for a second that I'm going to abandon you, because that would _never_ happen. I want nothing but the best for you, to get you everything that you ask for, to always make you proud of me no matter where we are." Something warm and runny slipped over his cheek, but he didn't stop to flick it off. What he had to vocalize was far more critical to accomplish than tending to a burst pipe. "I solemnly pledge to you that I will be an excellent role model for you, someone you can look up to without being scared or frightened of. More than that, I can promise you this much: I will never, ever, _ever_ cause you any shame or embarrassment. You can count on me for that much."

The younger child's eyes opened wide, looking stunned and touched concurrently. "Are you crying, big brother?" he inquired, his tone unsteady.

Removing his hand from his sibling, the taller boy felt his visage. Liquid greeted his flesh, a tiny drop of water that rejected any movement, which stayed glued to its present location. Dipping his head slightly, he verified his relative's conjecture. 

"Yeah, I guess I am." 

Mokuba gave him a funny look. "Why?"

"It's okay to let a few tears loose once in a while." Kaiba answered, his mouth skewed in a lop-sided smirk. "Everyone finds themselves doing that once in a while."

"Am I allowed to, then?"

"If it feels right to you, then go ahead. I won't stop you."

"You won't think I'm weak or stupid or--"

"No." the taller adolescent vocalized, tossing his head from shoulder to shoulder. "Not at all. You see, there's a certain strength in being emotional, a wild type of understanding that comes from those inhibited feelings you have. It shows a key aspect about yourself that is necessary for progressing through whatever you may encounter."

"Like--?"

"Like knowing that, even though you may feel invincible at times, it's _also _good to realize how much frailty you own. If you never _express _yourself, you'll have trouble _being _yourself." Tapping his brother's head, he added, "We're not meant to be androids or computers with chips for brains. Hearts, minds, souls…those are all parts of a living entity, someone that learns, who grows to understand those around them. Those are facets of what makes us _human_. Do you understand, Mokuba?"

When he didn't hear a response, he called his sibling's name once more.

"Mokuba?"

In a dramatic rush, the longhaired boy threw his arms around his relative's neck. 

"I love you, Seto." 

Returning the show of affection, the brown-haired person replied, "And I love you, too."

Tears slid over their features simultaneously, flowing from their eyes like wine into a crystal chalice. The roses of their brotherhood blossomed, layers of violet and crimson petals twining, weaving between one another, locking themselves in an unbreakable bond to last an eternity. Whispering in the wind was the ballad of fallen angels, music created by a saint that blissfully watched over her miniature cupids. She was always with them, going along wherever they went, singing to them with the divine range her voice produced. Now if only _both _of her beloved sons were able to listen to her songs--

"I wish you could hear her the music she made." sighed the sapphire-eyed individual wistfully. "She's so talented with that--"

"Sweet soprano accent." finished the other youth, his expression dreamy. 

Kaiba blinked, the lines on his visage etched with amazement. "You--you can--"

Nodding, the adolescent gazed at the foamy sea above. "I was wrong to say the things I did. It just wasn't fair. I know wherever I am, wherever you are, that's where she's gonna be. I just have to keep that all in here." he reasoned, tapping his temple with his finger.

"_And _in here." the taller person added, placing a hand over his heart.

"As long as we do that, we'll always remember her."

"So she'll never stop loving us," Seto said philosophically, raising his sight towards a mass of creampuff clouds. "no matter what. I know that because her spirit plays with ours, in flawless harmony that God provides us with. We're the baby roses emerging in the garden of her soul, sprouting in the showers of her undying love, blooming with a form of radiance that only a truly devout mother could raise. And to us, she is the child of our hearts, the gentle songstress who rocks us to sleep in her embrace. As we drift off into the realm of dreams, she echoes phrases of ever-lasting adoration as priceless and pure as a the wine splashed roses swaying to her tunes."

**__**

/Yeah, they're taking me away. /


	7. Living a Lie

Chapter Seven: Living a Lie

"How long are ya gonna sit and space out on me?"

His lips parted, working against the gummy substance gluing his flesh together. It was as if some construction worker carelessly leaked cement over his mouth, leaving him on the pavement in defeated wonder, forcing his skin to dry in the impending gloom his disreputable existence wrought. In this state of listlessness and decadent devilishness, the leviathan of social conformity spoke unabashed.

"Niisan," croaked the villain of standard family values, still drifting in the hazy dream world of childish fantasies, "I—I thought I told you to stay in bed—"

"He did."

"No you're not, you're right here."

"I hate to break it to ya, but I'm not ya little brother."

"Then who--" With great effort, he lifted his disillusioned blue eyes. When their fatigued vision came into focus, they discovered that it wasn't Mokuba in front of them, but someone else. Someone that he never expected to support him in war circumstances, much less voluntarily, in a place such as the one he resided in now. This was someone who should have spouted dirty obscenities at him, kicked him while he was already down, personally beat him into submission for the obnoxious commentary he always had to spit out. Why oh why was his self-proclaimed arch nemesis, all-time rival, his supreme opponent here-- "Joey?" Even as Kaiba spoke the other teen's name, he still doubted what he saw. There was just no _way _that the amber orbed male could be here. It just wasn't a possibility in his befuddled mind.

The blond nodded at the recognition of his title. Almost as if he were able to sense Seto's incredulous thoughts, he said, "Yeah, it's me." Flashing his slanted trademark smirk, he added, "Don't you go thinkin' otherwise."

Blinking in continued astonishment, the sapphire-eyed adolescent asked, "Why are you here?"

"Why do ya think?" Jonouchi shot back, unperturbed. "I'm here ta help."

Unintentionally, the teen by the wall smiled. How many times had he heard _that _seemingly innocent response on the streets? Too many to count, as far as he was concerned. He knew what Jou wanted, which coincidentally happened to be what every _other_ unkempt city scrounge in the district had extracted from him at one point or another. Distancing his legs from one another, he flaunted the lower parts of his body. "Just take what you want and leave."

"I don't want anything--" the honey-haired male responded, making direct eye contact with the person on the ground. "--especially not that."

Kaiba snorted, distracting himself with a piece of scrap paper tumbling past them. The litter flipped and turned, floating in the breeze like a topsy-turvy acrobat. Usually, he compared his outward conduct to a circus entertainer's performance. There was always a crowd to amuse somewhere, an audience of heckling spectators to contend with, a group of customers to win over by parading his amateur courting skills. This was no different from any other time, except he felt more like a clown than a magician's assistant. At least if he worked beside a spell caster, he could be made to disappear in one of the acts. 

"I don't care what you do." Seto choked, widening the gap between his limbs even more. "I know you're going to boast about having me after you're finished, so this is it--" He would have given his whole company to vanish behind a conjurer's enchanted blanket. Anything would have been better than throwing himself at the mercy of the biggest mouth and largest gossip that ever attended Domino High School. "it's all over for me."

With the curse of peripheral vision, he watched as Wheeler began to remove his first layer of attire. From what he could tell, the blond was sporting a lengthy jacket, some emerald colored model that bore a strong resemblance to the ones he had in his walk-in closet. Close to the border of the coat were silver buttons, all of which marched in a vertical line on the front of his attire. Nonchalantly, he freed the material from the constraints of the shiny knobs, shrugging his shoulders out of the apparel as he went. Feeling Kaiba's sharp gaze on him, Jonouchi met the piercing look head-on. That made the blue-eyed boy shrink against the stony surface of the complex, apartment buildings that rose into the death-filled sky like tombstones. Sighing in exasperation, the blond glanced away from the troubled child on the street.

/Never thought I'd see the day when Moneybags would cower in my presence. / the tall adolescent said silently, avoiding the sullen expression that was attempting to capture his attention. _/He's so out of it that he actually believes I'm gonna try and take advantage of him! What the hell has he been through to think up such a thing? /_ He briefly considered questioning the male groveling at his feet, but decided against it. There was something about the executive's visage that looked so petrified, so positively haunted, that Katsuya couldn't even bring himself to talk to him. _/To achieve a face like that says somethin' terrifyin' about him. I'm scared ta even imagine the shit he got himself into, let alone ask what he's done out here on his own. / _Handling the jacket in front of him cautiously, he stole a quick glance at Seto's folded form. _/I know I'm gonna have ta hear it sooner or later. He's not gonna spill every memory he's got an' risk his sanity ta satisfy me. Damn, this all feels so--_bad_. /_

Bending from the waist, the amber-eyed teen held the garment at an arm's length away from himself. He gripped it by the collar, letting it dangle from his palm, awaiting the moment when the rusty piece of human machinery before him would be energized enough to accept the offered clothing. "You want me to just drop it in front of you?"

The figure on the grimy asphalt made no endeavor to retrieve the accessory, nor did he let any further words echo from his throat.

"We both know ya can't be a practicin' nudist in this town, so why don't ya just cover up with this." Jonouchi pointed out, mixing in a bit of humor with his knowledge of the law. Shaking the coat, he put in with a mild grin, "I don't wanna see ya get sick from stayin' out in the cold too long."

That was the last straw. Kaiba's hand flung from the darkness, heading directly for Wheeler. Rather than accept the stylish fashion, he slapped Jou's limb, sending the blond a very loud and symbolic message. To make sure he had received the gesture's hidden meaning, the tall teen snapped, "I don't need your pity, you annoying canine." Eying the honey-haired person coldly, he started to rise from the pavement, staring Joey down as he accomplished the action. Throwing his shoulders back proudly while sticking his head up, he assumed the haughty posture he was accustomed to showing off as the regal CEO of his beloved corporation. "Whatever I do is none of your concern."

Spinning on his heel, the brown-haired adolescent turned his back on the blond. He didn't even get another pace in before he was stopped dead in his tracks. 

"Ya think you're so damned great, don't ya, Smart Mouth?" retorted Wheeler, impulsively reacting to his rival's baited phrases. This was typical of him to get drawn into a verbal debate, to automatically say everything that popped into his brain. It was a personality trait that he was never successful in ridding himself of, or at least refining to some tactful degree, so everyone around him was forced to tolerate his lack of control. Normally, he would be reprimanded for his temper, but tonight, he would be thanked for his honesty. "I'm tryin' ta be nice to ya, and all I get is a dumb ego trip--"

"Go away and leave me alone." ordered the blue-eyed boy, relapsing into his bitter and cruel businessman character. 

"You don't deserve my time."

"Ya don't deserve Mokuba's time, but ya allow yourself to anyways." Joey fired back. His tone was angry, but he was able to remain composed under the dire conditions. Any situation where Jou could keep his fists from acting on their own accord was calm for the rambunctious teen, for he was famous for using his brawn for settling disputes instead of his common sense. 

Unconsciously, Seto jerked into a rigid pose. He swung his head over his upper body, just far back enough to send the blond a menacing glare. "How dare you judge me!" he snarled through gritted teeth, rage boiling beneath his skin in hot crimson rivers. 

"And how dare _you _do stupid shit like this to mess with ya brother's mind!" The honey-haired male knew that every spoken word of his was upsetting the technology developer, but he didn't stop talking. He didn't have to. He was going to give Kaiba a lifetime analysis that he knew wouldn't be appreciated very much, but it had to come out, whether the cocky computer programmer wanted to listen to it or not. "In case ya haven't noticed, that little kid is your flesh and blood! How the hell could ya even _think _about doin' this kinda crap--"

"I'm not _trying _to hurt him, I just want to--"

Relentlessly, Joey went on as if no interruption ever occurred. "Do ya _want _him to find ya dead someday? You hopin' he'll be flippin' through T.V. channels sometime and come across--"

"Stop it!" commanded the sapphire-eyed male, grasping full well what would be stated next. "I don't want to--"

"Hear it?" suggested the blond, advancing on the dark-haired child ruthlessly. "Tell me somethin' I _don't _know."

"That you don't _know_ a damn thing about him. Or me."

"Oh, is that so? You'd be surprised, Kaibie Boy."

"What the hell is _that _supposed to mean?"

Katsuya concentrated his sights on the conceited individual before him. It was time that the supercilious executive understood the extent of his sibling's suffering, pain that was obviously well-hidden from his steely eyes. "Ya wanna guess who called me out here to give ya a check up?"

Seto's face went ashen. "You--someone _told _you to come after me?"

"Yeah-huh." Face-to-face with the international bitch of the world of cyberspace, the blond held up three fingers. "I'll give ya three guesses to figure out who it was. Try not ta strike out." Observing the pallor of the billionaire's complexion, he stated in a low whisper, "That won't happen. That won't happen 'cuz I got a feelin' ya already know who it is, right off the bat. Don't ya, Sweetie-Pie?" He could tell from the blue-eyed boy's tightly drawn features that he hated being called by such a feminine title, even thought it was dripping with sarcasm. Nonetheless, Kaiba stood quietly, the diary of his voice box locked shut with a key that had been tossed away into forbidden territory. "Come on and tell me who coulda called ya in."

Displaying a subtle shake of his head, the dark-haired person chose to plead the Fifth Amendment. 

"I know ya know who it is. For Christ sakes, _both _of us do. You'd make it a whole lot easier on yourself if ya just admitted it out loud."

Studying Jonouchi's face, Kaiba finally relented to the constricting demands. "There's no way he saw me leave. He--I put him to bed tonight, like I do every time it gets dark, so he wouldn't ever see me walk out the door." the tall teen explained, appealing to his own logic rather than his opponent's requests. As he spoke, he let his blue orbs fall to his feet. He just now noticed that they were bare. Nothing made sense to him anymore. That's why he just aimlessly started to ramble, allowing his tongue to let loose, permitting his mouth to bring forth anything and everything through their fleshy gates. "I always sing to him so he'll fall asleep faster. That's after a few bedtime stories, of course, followed by a good-night kiss on each cheek." 

The way he talked about his nightly rituals with Mokuba reminded him of a mathematical equation or some kind of recipe. Take a mixing bowl; measure out two tablespoons of music, three cups of treasured pictorial books, and half a serving of pulling up the sheets to a loved one's neck for a favorite family formula. Add a dash of lovingly placed kisses for a garnish to create a new delectable dessert. He even pictured a housewife in a flowery apron, standing in her kitchen, displaying a tray of brownies in her mitten covered hands saying, "Try 'em, you'll buy 'em. They're kid tested and parent approved." It was just too bad that the businessman couldn't replace the mother that his sibling and him lost. Matter of fact, he didn't even make an adequate substitute for a nanny, much less a real Mommy and Daddy. Not only that, but he was also failing at being a satisfactory brother, too. Was there nothing that he could do right? When would the world stop being so vindictive?

"So I take it Mokuba's your final answer?" a Brooklyn based accent asked.

"Yes, but--I--" stuttered the adolescent with sapphire orbs, unable to conclude how his brother could have caught wind of his second profession. "I just don't see how he could--" Turning his head to the side, he raked a frustrated hand through his matted tresses. 

"He doesn't." finished Joey, filling in the blanks installed in his acquaintance's mind.

Pausing in mid-stroke, Seto looked at Jou and blinked. "What?"

"He doesn't know." repeated the amber orbed male. "The kid doesn't have a clue about what's goin' on."

"But you said a little while ago--"

"That someone called me out on ya, right?"

"Yes, which translates to my brother realizing--"

"Nothing." the blond moved his head from side to side, emphasizing his words. 

Kaiba narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "If he _supposedly _doesn't know anything, then why are _you_ here?"

Wheeler sighed. "It's true that Mokuba phoned me concernin' you, but it's not whatever ya believe. Apparently, the poor thing had a nightmare, so he woke up in th' middle of the night. Told me he went to your bedroom to get ya to comfort him. Not only that, but he also planned ta spend 'til mornin' with ya, too. Anyhoo, he got the scare of his life when he saw that you weren't there." Ignoring the glassy quality of the CEO's eyes, Katsuya gave him the rest of the details. "Frightened of being left alone, he dropped me a lil' love note somewhere around three thirty, quarter to four. I had ta spend a good hour or so tellin' him that ya didn't just up and go away permanently. So," the honey-haired male said sharply, "What do ya have ta say for yourself? And don't give me any of that high and mighty I'm-better-than-you-are bullshit, either."

"Where is he?"

Amazed that Kaiba didn't fire a single vulgar word at him, Joey replied, "At Yug's place gettin' some shut eye." Noticing how the executive's visage darkened, Jonouchi retorted, "The hell did ya expect me ta do with him? Have him sit at ya mansion and be cut off from any human contact? Shove him into my apartment and hope ta God my Dad doesn't come home and find him there? Jesus, I had limited options ta deal with! Instead a givin' me a dirty look, ya should ask for a way ta _repay_ Yugi an' me! We didn't have ta go outta our way to protect the kid, ya know. I could a just left him in that miserable mausoleum of a house you've got over on Silent Hill. That way, he could a just read about your death in the Sunday newspaper."

"Shut up, Jou." commanded Seto in a hoarse whisper. "Now. Do it before--"

"Wouldn't _that_ be interestin' to eat cereal in front of? Big bold headlines screamin' somethin like 'KaibaCorp.'s Leader Hits Rock-bottom' or 'Hot Shot Tech Boy Gets Unplugged.' I bet he'd have a hard time stomachin' a passage with your carcass as the main focus."

Shaky fingertips were gripping the blue-eyed boy's locks, indicating that he was losing his composure as a stately businessman. He had squeezed his eyes shut, too overpowered by his turbulent emotions to tackle the blond with a frigid stare. "I told you to shut up already."

**__**

/But I'm not crazy/

"You tryin' to be dead before your next birthday?" pressed the golden-haired individual, gesturing with his opposite hand. "Is that what you're wishin' ta get for a present? A funeral? The fuck's a matter with ya, anyways?"

**__**

/I'm just a little unwell/

Bringing his hand to his face, the dark-haired adolescent covered his mouth with his palm. Everything from that point on transpired in slow motion; the quivering of his lower lip, the trembling of his entire frame, the slick, liquid feel of a drop of water escaping from his lid, a crazy combination of hot and cold sensations prickling his cheek as a certain wetness flowed across his flesh. Wrapping his other arm around his body, the blue-eyed boy gazed at Wheeler and strangled out, "Everything. Everything's the matter with me, and that's why I _should _be killed. I deserve to be dead."

**__**

But stay a while and maybe then you'll see/

As the demons of his own soul pulled the fabrics of his heart apart, the tall male crumpled to the pitiless tar below. Jonouchi, wide-eyed at the dramatic response, had sprung into action in the nick of time. Reaching with both arms fully extended, he caught the traumatized teen, pulling him onto his lap right before his battered structure clashed with the pavement. Though the blond was able to save his acquaintance from any further injuries, he wasn't capable of halting the rush of tears pouring from Seto's eyes. Twin faucets were turned on behind the executive's lids, unstoppable water works that had been tweaked off for what seemed like forever. In these heart-wrenching moments, every instance of abuse, self-inflicted damage, regret and remorse for behaving like a terrible sibling flooded out of his mind, evolving into the physical waste known as crying. Burying his face in Joey's clothes, the formerly elegant and mature image of the director of KaibaCorp. dissipated, leaving a torn and shattered child in the façade's station. His tears soaked the amber-eyed teen's shirt, providing the blond with evidence that even the most unkind and malicious of souls had the ability to become human.

**__**

/A different side of me/

"Hey, it--it's okay, man." Katsuya soothed, holding the shivering adolescent close. Using the back of his hand, he wiped away the crystal lines staining Kaiba's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean ta do this to ya."

"It's nothing that I didn't have coming to me." wept the blue-eyed teen, his broken accent hardly capable of forming well-pronounced dialogue. 

While Jonouchi agreed with his acquaintance's statement, he didn't verbally attest to it, nor did he make any additional comments on it. He tried to console the blue-eyed adolescent as best as he could, even rocking the thin thing gently as they poured their heart and soul to him. It was either now or never for the blond. As much as he hated asking the brown-haired adolescent anything, he had to know the facts. There were just too many factors missing in the whole setup. Gently passing a hand through his acquaintance's strands, he inquired softly, "Really, Set…why're ya doin' this? It can't be for the money, 'cuz you're like the richest guy I know."

**__**

/I'm not crazy/

"Stocks have failed in my industry, Jou!" wailed the blue-orbed boy.

"Say _what_?" cried the honey-haired person, staring at his companion in wide-eyed disbelief. "You're jokin' right?"

**__**

/I'm just a little impaired/

Emphatically, the wiry child shook his head. "No, it's true. I swear it is. Market shares have dropped significantly within the past three months. If this economy doesn't pull itself out of a recession, I'll have to apply for food stamps and sell my estate! After that, it will only be a matter of time before child protective services try to intervene and take Mokuba away--" Fresh tears started forming beneath his lids, filling themselves to the brim with the salty material. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, the mental picture of his sibling being torn out of his arms presented him hallucinations beyond his mortal capabilities of handling fear. If someone came to take his relative back to the orphanage--that would be it for him--and there would be no reason to pursue the dream of living. It would be a crash in his main hardware system, an awful recollection of defeat, shards of his soul splitting apart that could never be regenerated again. In short, it would be the death of himself, the child that used to push his brother on the swings, that loved watching the sun replace itself with its counterpart, the coconut shaded moon, a little boy so fascinated with the joy of being alive that he could barely wait to be the first one to rise before anyone else did at his house so he could surprise his family with breakfast in bed. Every bit of that-the games of hide-and-go-seek and tag, sessions of knitting together personalized jewelry (friendship bracelets were the best), and literally singing in the rain would all be events of a dead and long forgotten child. What could possibly be left after a social worker ripped his only living family member away? Nothing. Not a damned thing, except for the nothing he had become--

**__**

/I know right now you don't care/

"So ya could join the rest of the workin' middle-class." Joey pointed out. "Domino City's full a jobs. All ya gotta do is go in to the nearest place ya see an' pick up an application. It's not that tough, y'know."

Seto's eyes grew wide. "At a fast _food_ _place_?" sputtered the dark-haired male. "How can I work somewhere like _that_?"

Immediately, Wheeler was hurt. He didn't see what was so bad with making a little extra spending cash in retail, primarily because it provided him with more than enough funds to purchase any extra accommodations for his sister. All of her medical needs were pretty much taken care of with the part-time profession. If Mr. In-Love-With-His-Laptop wouldn't be so stuck-up, then he would probably get in somewhere for higher than minimum pay. Especially with his skills in electronics. "At least I'm makin' an honest wage." snapped the amber-eyed person indignantly. "How's about _you_, Set? Can ya tell me you're happy with what you're doin' now? Ya wanna stay like this forever, if ya survive long enough to?"

Slowly, the blue-eyed teen's orbs descended upon the street. No, he didn't want to sit out in this industrial wasteland a minute more than he had to, much less think of setting up a residence among the trashy vermin of the city. He couldn't stay here for an eternity. The creatures of the night that stalked the highways would chew him up and spit him out like a rancid side dish.

"I guess that's that, then." said Jonouchi, wrapping his arms around his shaken classmate, lifting the boy up as he began to stand. Avoiding the cavernous alleys behind them, the blond proceeded to leave the insanity asylum behind. 

"Where are you taking me?" cried the dark-haired adolescent. "I can't go back to Mokuba like this! You said yourself that I have to be the one to confess to him all my mistakes! This isn't fair! You _know _this isn't fair--"

"Whoever said life was?" responded Wheeler, his tone dead and monotonous. 

"You--you _bastard_!" Kaiba bitterly spat at Katsuya. "How could you lie to me like that? Huh? How the _fuck_ could you blackmail me like this? I _knew _this had to be too good to be true! I was on to you the moment I saw who you were! You're just trying to get me back for everything I told you, for all the word battles we had, and every little thing that went on before! You wanted to gain my trust so you could rape me of it in the end! How the hell can you--"

"Shaddup" Jou replied unemotionally. 

The executive blinked, astounded by the statement. No one had ever dared to throw such an ill-mannered bit of speech at him, not even his younger sibling. So where did this gutter scoundrel get off coming up with something like that? "Excuse me?" the brown-haired male inquired. "What did you just say?"

"You _know _what I said." 

"So I heard you correctly? You really told me to be quiet?"

"Yup." replied the blond. Glancing down at his passenger, he asked, "Care ta make somethin' outta nothin', pal?"

"No." Seto answered quickly after getting a look at the harsh expression on Jonouchi's face. "I--I just thought that I'd--that he wouldn't find out this way--"

Joey's face softened. "Ya can stop worryin' already. I'm not takin' ya ta parade in front of ya bro this way."

"You're not?"

"Naw. I've got a better place ta take ya tonight."

Kaiba's mouth actually turned upwards. He'd never felt more grateful to anyone. If he had the energy, he would command his bruised body to stay upright long enough to place his weight on both legs, sing his most favorite song, and carry his acquaintance on his shoulders to repay his debt. Expelling the painful breath he had been holding in his lungs, he fell slack in Joey's grip.

"It alright, man." whispered the honey-haired individual. "I'm glad ya can relax at last."

"So am I." murmured the blue-eyed boy, clinging to the other teen's clothes. Sleep…maybe he could finally get some well-deserved rest. It would make him feel better, he decided. Just catch some sweet Zzz's and bounce off into a world made of the softest beds and pillows and sheets that he had ever touched--

"Looks like _someone's _gonna need a bed as soon as we get home." observed Wheeler, his hazel eyes sparkling in the lamp lights by the roads.

Suddenly, the businessman's orbs snapped open. Whatever delusions he had previously harbored regarding an uninterrupted slumber had just burst into flames. A fire of emotions surrounded him, the torments of his own personal and very private hell tortured him once more. Being stabbed, scratched, wrongly caressed, committing acts of utter depravity--the heat of his memories threatened to do far more than simply burn him. They wanted to see him hurt, watch him suffer, leer at him as he crashed and smoldered to ashes. They wished to see him receive more than natural death. Like everyone else he had crossed paths with in his life, his mind longed to have him go to hell--a fiery pit with no loving angels or music, a realm so horrifying and real to him that obviously held no hope of redemption.

**__**

/But soon enough you're gonna think of me/

"No!" shouted the pitiful child in Katsuya's embrace. "No more! I don't want to go there anymore!"

Wheeler raised his brows, shocked by the violent reaction. "The _hell_?" he cursed as he attempted to hold onto the male struggling in his limbs. "What _now_?"

"_Let me go!_" yelled Kaiba. Losing himself in the detrimental stream of his feelings, he clawed at the blonde's chest. He was frantic. There was no way out--or so it seemed. This time, he would succeed in evading the terror of his early childhood, effectively evading the skeletons of his closet. "_Now! I'm _not_ going to live through this anymore!_"

"_Jesus_! The fuck has gotten in to ya?" swore the honey-haired male. The more he tried to latch on to the executive and hold him steady, he risked letting the kid go entirely. 

"_You're _not _taking me down with you, you sadistic maniac!_" Seto continued to rant, trapped in thoughts he never wanted to vocalize, twisting his frame in a blazing rage.

"_Hold still!_" commanded Jonouchi. "_Just level the fuck out!_"

"_NO!_" wailed the CEO. Digging his heels in the pavement, he thrashed viciously, jerking against the strength of his acquaintance with all of his might. Blood leaked from open abrasions on his toes from his efforts, be he didn't pay any heed to his frame. No more. No more would he allow himself to be strangled, drugged, injected with fluids not even tested on animals, raped by his father's associates--he couldn't live with himself. Not anymore. And certainly not like this. He'd rather be whipped and be bent over to be used as a footstool by Satan than be in his perverted parent's presence. He wouldn't go back to that graveyard of a home he was forced to grow up in. There wasn't a damn thing that anyone could do about that, either. "_I'll _kill _myself before I ever let you fondle me again! I hate you! Do you hear me, you fucking lunatic? I hate you, Gozaburo Kaiba! I'm sick of this shit! So sick of it that I'm tired of living a lie!_"

Clamping a trembling fist around the base of his throat, he slid his nails into his skin and began screaming.

**__**

/And how I used to be/


	8. Crazy or Unwell?

Chapter Eight: Crazy or Unwell?

Game Shop 

Located on Lavaca St.

4:30 a.m.

Lazy eyelids fluttered, squeezed themselves together, and beckoned their comfortable cocoon of sleep to stay wrapped around them longer. Just a little more rest, was that too much to ask for? Obviously it was, if you were a high school student who was forced to sleep in a loft above a store. Kame Game Shop was infamous for providing around the clock services to just about anyone who knocked on the door--duelists haggling for the hottest monster cards in stock, otaku freaks that couldn't be cured of their classic cases of insomnia unless they purchased a horde of Pocky Sticks (or manga, either would do for those hyperactive Cosplayers), even die-hard Internet junkies that couldn't possibly find a reason to continue living until they were a proud new owner of blank DVDs or CD-ROMS. If the PC dorks were really desperate, then they'd sigh dramatically, chew their lower lip, and then grudgingly pluck their wallet out of worn-out jeans to retrieve their allowance in exchange for a Zip disk. Yup, almost every walk of life bought or sold items at the small entertainment business, whether they were corporate executives, electronics geeks, anime worshippers, or cute elementary school kids looking for something new to play with--like the one who was in bed now. Well--that's not a _completely_ accurate synopsis of the student, but he certainly fit the physical description. Looking like a child who just graduated from the fifth grade, the petite adolescent appeared to be an adorable replica of a Precious Moments figurine. Big purple eyes, childish body proportions, and fully equipped with a voice that obviously hadn't gone through puberty yet, the grandson of the shop's owner was usually mistaken for someone younger. Normally, that meant six or seven years younger, but who has time to keep track of that sort of thing? Not this small boy, this dozing angel, this cutie-pie that was having a difficult time finding a comfy position to lie in. Beddie-bye hours were a precious commodity to him, especially since he was feeling the stress of forfeiting relaxation for good grades. Teachers at his school were piling assignments on him so quickly, layering the essays; research papers, calculus equations, and other activities one on top of the other, making his course load a very sour parfait to sample. Coffee was his only lifesaver, his happy-pill medicine, the steamy beverage of go-go juice that helped him keep his eyes open during his homework episodes. By the way, speaking of those stacks of worksheets, texts to read, and notes to take, the entire mound was never-ending. Exams were next week, too. He was doing nothing but getting very well acquainted with the term "cramming," a technique he swore he'd never use to achieve his desired GPA, but found it to be more and more useful as the semester was coming to a close. And what individual was responsible for handing down this extremely _irresponsible _teaching method? Who else but the one and only master of being a gifted slacker: Joey Wheeler. This was a teen who had slept or literally skipped through his high school career, lived at places that sold video games, ditched his household chores to hang out downtown, and _still _managed to pull a passing score out of all of his professors. How lucky could one guy possibly be? Too damn smart for his own good, if anyone ever asked the gothic-haired child. When he busted his tail to get by in a class, Jonouchi sailed through the course, no sweat. While he had to concentrate on learning a concept better, Katsuya simply glanced over the material once, was miraculously able to commit every minute detail to memory, then took the test over the subject weeks later and aced it. It just wasn't fair. Then again, what the hell was in this life? Obviously not much, if freeloaders like that could always find an easy way to skate through existence, have time to basically do whatever the hell he wants to, or bounce around the city looking for fast food to cram down his throat. How come nothing bad ever happened to the constantly energetic blond? Why did _he _seem to fall ass-backwards into fortune? Was it possible for _anything _ill fated to catch him, or was he simply too quick for terrible luck--

Again the strained lids moved, actually accomplishing greater movement than a few rolls of the eyes. Gradually, the blinds to the windows of the soul opened, revealing twin red-violet orbs. They stared out blankly from their sockets, hovering somewhere between the dueling planes of the tangible and intangible. Their sight reflected the peaceful slumber of someone content in the creation station of dreams, clashing with the dull structure of the four walls surrounding them. Even registering where he was took several more seconds than it should have, proving his theory of exhaustion very thoroughly and efficiently. If he was so tired, then why couldn't he just close his sweet lil' peepers and wait until dawn to wake up? What possessed him to peer into the starkness of his private quarters? He didn't know, just didn't have a freaking clue as to why he had lifted his fatigued lids--and that's when it hit him. Rather, that's what was _hitting_ the outside of his house-turned-retail-combo--knocking.

And some very _insistent_ rapping, at that.

Shaken into a haphazard state of consciousness, the short male strained his ears, listening hard for the sound to echo in his brain once more. Lucky for him, the ever persistent drum roll continued, jarring him into reality at last. Lifting two chibi-sized palms to his worn face, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He dreaded answering the door (namely because he couldn't see unlocking it to explain what a floppy disk was to a _supposed_ veteran of using laptops), but knew he was going to have to eventually. There just wasn't going to be any way around it. Besides, he didn't want to be a pain in the ass for Grandpa, a kindly old man who had lovingly rescued him from his childhood hell, supported him, and treated him like family. Getting a nicely furnished room with a job and some spending money happened to be a lovely added bonus, too. 

__

/We've only been together about a year, but he has taken me into his home and his raised me like his son. / the wild-haired teen recalled, sitting upright on his box spring mattress. A miniature smile accented his features, pulling his lips up enough to give him the image of a cherub. The treasured recollection of his grandfather embracing him flashed inside his head, a mental picture he adored, a cherished photograph of happiness. No matter how childish or immature this memory of his seemed to others, he would always hold it dear in his heart, a simplistic representation of his first true encounter of being loved. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful to him than that, the sensation of feeling affection for someone while having it all returned to him at least ten-fold. His grandparent wasn't just his legal guardian, but also one of his best friends, and a special individual that would never have to be unsure about having a place to reside at in the boy's soul. Content with the flashback, he thought happily, _/No, I _am _his child. And I'm not ashamed to admit that, either. I'm glad that someone wants me to be his relative. Grandpa will never let me down, so I always want to be the one who can do the same for him. /_

Before he could forge another hearty vow of valor to his relative, the banging below resumed its steady tempo. 

"Alright!" moaned the spiky-haired adolescent groggily. "Alright _already_!" 

Swinging his legs from underneath himself, he set his feet flat on the floor. Using his open hands, he balanced part of his weight on his arms, expelled most of the tension from his upper body, and then slowly lifted himself from his heavenly sheets. As he began fumbling across his not-so-clear-carpet (homework took up the free minutes he used for basic hygiene, being messy was a recent add-on to his daily routine), the pounding on his humble abode resumed. Of course, it could have just been his imagination (he had a pretty active one when he wanted to), but the hammering on his dwelling sounded much louder than the noise he heard earlier. 

"Relentless bastard." muttered the youth under his breath, hobbling around in the dark. Unable to see where he was headed, the purple-eyed male collided with a wall, thumping his head right into the hard surface. Not learning his lesson from before on the usage of foul language, he whined, "Owww, fuck that hurt!" Ruefully, he clamped a hand over the fresh bash on his visage, massaging the throbbing skin. If Grandpa heard him even whisper that sort of obscene dialogue, then the guy would probably be using _his _head as a door by now, whacking his forehead so fast and painfully that he wished he would have never uttered a syllable even remotely similar to what he vocalized. But that was only an event to fear if he was listening. Lucky for the short student, the old man retired to his bedroom hours ago, so he had to have fallen asleep--or so that was the preposterous notion--

"Yugi!" called Sugoroku Mutoh from his side of the house, "What was that?"

"Someone's at the door downstairs!" the youth replied quickly, hoping that his relative would forget about his slip of the tongue. Highly unlikely, but it was worth a try. "I think it's a customer!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear it? They've been clobbering the entrance of our shop to get someone's attention!"

Waiting for a response, the amethyst-eyed child exhaled. So far, so good. Grandfather was never one to sweat the small stuff whenever new business opportunities came knocking for him. That was something that the gothic-haired male was grateful for--his old man's love for trade--which was doing a very nice job of distracting the owner's attention. On the flip side, Mutoh's hide was saved.

At last, his relative shouted back, "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Christmas?"

"No--"

"Then go greet them and take their order!"

"I know, I'm going, I'm going."

Shuffling over the store tiles on floor one of the two-story building, the petite adolescent found a straight and easy path to the entrance of their condominium. In the moonlight, he watched as the large moveable surface of the business vibrated, echoing the impatience of a rowdy consumer. Face-to-face with the synthetic structure, he stared at the shadowy shape behind the glass. It was too dark to play guessing games with the figure, although, as bizarre as it seemed, the outline outside felt weirdly familiar to him. Shaking off the queasy feeling settling in the base of his stomach, he reached for the brass bar in front of him, slid his fingers over the cool metallic pole, then--

Suddenly, an elderly voice blared like a foghorn, causing the poor thing to jump.

"Yugi, are you listening?"

"Yes, Grandpa." he answered obediently.

"You _know_ what using bad words gets you."

Mutoh's countenance turned a sickly shade. Yes, he knew _exactly _what that meant--he would be awarded a beautiful one-way trip to his room, a paradise in No Man's Land where every last speck of his sound files, CD's, radio, and puzzles would be confiscated in a nifty package most teenagers identified as grounding. Harsh, but to be expected. He should have known better, too. Nothing ever got past Sugoroku Mutoh. Some people may call him an old duck fart, but he was as sharp as college kids were. No pulling any fast ones on _that _eagle-eyed, rabbit-eared man. 

"How long am I down for _this _time?" asked the lavender-eyed youth after sighing. 

"We'll talk about it later." his grandfather replied coolly. "Just tend to the client so you can send them on their merry way."

Oh, shit. He was in for it now. When Grandpa didn't inform him of the consequence right off the bat that generally meant he was going to suffer. 

__

/Damn, and I just _got myself that MP3 player! It took me _months _to save for that stupid thing! / _he cursed to himself unhappily. Thrusting his hand into his pajama pocket, he rifled the contents of the fabric, plucking a silver key out as he completed his momentary search. He jammed the uneven metal into the keyhole, wiggling the lock to and fro. _/Consequences are consequences, though…/ _thought the short teen logically. _/He's only looking out for my best interests. That's part of making me a functional member of society: taking responsibility for my actions. / _With a last twist of the key, the security device was overrode, allowing him to let in whoever the hell had the nerve to show themselves at his home at such an ungodly hour. _/It could always be worse. / _he told himself; attempting to find some consolation for the punishment he was indirectly thinking of. _/One or more of my friends could be severely injured or hurt--/ _

Upon jacking the door to his place open, he promptly received his most horribly fabled premonition brought into reality.

"Jonouchi-kun!" gasped the high school student. "What are you--"

"Doin' here?" offered the blond. 

"Yeah, that's the question I had on my mind." Leaning against the frame of his store, the gothic-haired child said, "I can tell you're not here to buy anything."

"You're right 'bout that."

"Then why--"

**__**

/Yeah, how I used to be/

Motioning with his gaze, the other male directed his friend's eyes to the added weight in his arms. Yugi's mouth dropped open, instantly registering the identity of the person his companion was carrying, who was none other than the notorious leader of the top-selling dueling technology internationally--

**__**

/How I used to be/

"Yeah, it's who ya think it is." the amber-eyed teenager stated. "It's him, the one, the only--"

"Seto Kaiba of KaibaCorp." breathed the petite adolescent, clearly astonished. He sounded as if the king of England himself was visiting the Kame Shop. Violet orbs full of endless questions regarded Katsuya cautiously, irresolute and uncertain. "How--What happened--?"

**__**

/Well, I'm just a little unwell/

"You don't wanna know, and I don't wanna repeat it." replied Joey vaguely. 

"Why not?"

" 'Cuz you'd have nightmares for months if I told ya the truth."

Judging by the serious look in his comrade's hazel orbs, Yugi could see that his friend wasn't exaggerating. Maybe _that's_ what was scaring him so badly, the tell-tale signs he was faced with--the seriousness in Jou's visage, his rigid posture, steely, unwavering gaze, strangely bitter expression--all components of a very nasty crime scene indeed. To make things worse, he was carrying his rival, someone that mutually despises him, a well-known male that could order Jonouchi's death on a golden platter. So what did his buddy have to do with the mangled frame he held? And just _who_ was to blame for marring the executive's neck so savagely that he may even require stitches--

Although he didn't wish to accuse his best friend of any harmful actions, the shorter teen just had to have his impulsive thoughts settled. In a quiet tone, he asked, "You didn't--"

**__**

/How I used to be/

"No." replied the honey-haired male, shaking his head as he spoke. "Not on my life would I do anythin'--" He gazed down at the battered structure of the once sophisticated businessman he held. His eyes reflected a painful mixture of empathy, compassion, and something else, another emotion Yugi couldn't quite place-- "like this. Not on my life." he finished, his voice barely audible.

Pressing a palm to his chest, the shorter male expelled a breath of relief. "Thank the gods." Raising his line of sight to his companion's countenance, he glanced briefly at Kaiba's torn flesh, then fixed a worried look on Wheeler. "Then who--"

"You wouldn't believe me if I said it."

"Try me." the purple-orbed person said, folding his arms huffily. 

**__**

/How I used to be/

"I don't know." 

"Know? Know what?"

Gazing at Yugi with glittering amber eyes, the troubled male answered brokenly, "I don't know if Set's crazy or just a little unwell."

**__**

/I'm just a little unwell/


	9. Epilogue: Gates of Genesis

~Epilogue: The Gates of Genesis~

Watching the two teenagers together was a painting of unrivaled splendor, magnificence, utter and complete brilliance that would be next to impossible to duplicate in any artistic format. Setting aside their typical stereotypes, the afflictions of their public labels had been left behind in the plane of superficiality, a setting where only a very gluttonous civilization thrived. Beyond the realm of crazy capitalists, greedy politicians, and the workplace filled with artificial friendliness resided something real, attributes that were noticeably genuine. Tapping into this spiritual scenery were two subjects, both males, which happened to be the most highly unlikely to ever, arrive at such mystical elucidation. Everyone who was acquainted with the adolescents would divulge that they were the exact opposites of each other. While one was an affluent aristocrat, his counterpart's economic status was at poverty level, a person that was regarded as more of a village rat than a human. It was an odd face-off of differences, the kind of quirks that would cause outright hostility, major conflicts of interest that had a tendency to ruin prospective partnerships. Somehow, someway, the couple of classmates were able to disregard the prejudices that they had been taught since childhood to uphold and continue, clinging to one another's frames in feelings that represented a vast variety of feelings extending further than camaraderie. 

**__**

/Hold me/

Tenderly offering outspread arms to his companion, the blond instinctively welcomed the affection to follow. His associate, overwrought with emotional anguish, climbed into the genial limbs without a second thought. The tear-stained brunette tensed the moment he felt the brush of his comrade, but was calmed by the subtle engagements made towards him. Passively, the sapphire-eyed boy sat in the lap of his caretaker, actually savoring the times fingertips stroked the mass of his silky tresses. Seto wished this intimate contact could last longer than just these few sacred seconds of heaven's mercy.

**__**

/Whatever lies beyond this morning/

He wanted them to go on forever.

**__**

/Is a little later on/

For once in his existence, he wasn't being pushed away, beaten, or horribly threatened for accepting an invitation of apparent fondness. This was a fantasy he had reasoned to be unrealistic, impracticable, and even totally illogical previously, but now--

**__**

/Regardless of warnings/

__

Everything seemed probable to him, as if some deeper meaning to life had been revealed to him through means of divine intervention. Hopes and dreams from yester years came flooding back to him, indulging the child within himself in desires he had been prone to deem whimsical as a young adult. In his entire life, he had never felt so at peace, being gently rocked to sleep by wave-like limbs he was nestled inside of, drifting away on the calming waters created by the embrace he received. Kaiba was the mermaid who evolved into a human, someone capable of walking not only because he had dared to dream the unattainable, but also due to the account that there was an individual out there that actually _cared_ about him. That person made no crude advances towards him, nor did he expect something in return in order to be repaid for his kindness. It was the sort of benevolence that was a gift of the heart, a mark of character, an actual representation of the altruistic soul that came quite naturally to the honey-haired male. Here he was, Joey Wheeler, Mr. Street Tough Himself, nursing the blue-eyed boy back to health as if that was his most important task to fulfill. Jonouchi was unique in that respect--notorious for putting up a dangerous front, yet extremely considerate and perceptive if the circumstances were serious enough to provoke those traits from him. 

**__**

/the future doesn't scare me at all/

__

/He hides just like I do…/ realized the youngster huddled in the blonde's arms. _/Jou only lets people see what he wants them to see. Both of us, we're one in the same. So very similar although we come from worlds apart. And yet I just want him to call my name--so we could share in the music of a single heart. Simple and clean is the way I feel tonight, / _he sang softly to himself. _/and it's hard to let it go. / _

Envisioning a demonstrative smile on his companion's lips, Seto swam in the depths of Katsuya's compassion, an endless paradise surpassing the greatness that Eden hypothetically possessed. Miracles _did _exist, but not in the conventional methods that Christians preached about. The phenomenon of romance, whether angels, deities, or an on-going dynamic equilibrium produced the feeling, was an emotion that exceeded the boundaries of anything ordinary or conservative. Whether it was wrong or right, both blonde and brunette would be with each other tonight, allowing one another to be the shelter for their souls as they entered into the gates of Genesis together. Sometimes, people fall and lose it all, their possessions, money, and even self-respect. As long as there was someone there to catch him before he hit the ground, the damage to his self-esteem was always reparable, restoring the capacity to adopt sensation for a valuable kindred spirit. To pick himself off the sidewalk and dust himself off to try again, readily returning the sincerity he was shown, Kaiba let himself trust someone else besides his brother. This was the enlightenment he had been searching for, seeking out, waiting to see if the graces of passion would ever dawn on him and expose the path of ever-lasting contentment. Hand-in-hand with the one he hoped to call his own one-day, he nuzzled into a cozy location, murmuring lyrics to a song he used to sing as a little boy with restored faith. 

/_Cradle softly _

Me on your knee

All that's sacred

Cherished, unsaid

Surrounded by

Your lullaby

Rocking to sleep

My soul

Forever

Yours to keep/

****

/Nothing's like before/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: To comprehend the difficulties of the obstacles Seto encountered as a child, please read the sequel to this story, **Trials of Trauma, **already available to read on fanfiction.net. Terror haunts the lives of Kaiba and his younger sibling as they endure countless flashbacks pertaining to the broken histories between themselves. As Joey comes to understand the shattered childhood of his past rival, he is faced with much more than becoming a secure friend. Grasping the fact that he has been developing feelings additional to good relations with Seto, Jonouchi battles against helping his comrade overcome mental illness and satisfying his own selfish desires. Can the teenagers become mentally capable of handling their emotional burdens, or will their instabilities ruin the chances of a potentially beautiful relationship?


	10. Alternate Epilogue: Waters of Enlightenm...

_Author's Note: I wasn't particularly pleased with the sugary sweet ending that I originally wrote for Unwell, so I felt a more bitter epilogue was needed to fit the context of the whole fic better. _

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Mutou__ residence_

_5:30 a.m.___

_Fearing that Kaiba could not be left to his own devices, Jounouchi carried him to his best friend's house in the heart of __Domino__City__. There, in Yugi's bedroom, the worried blond laid his former rival to rest. To ensure the brown-haired male's security, Katsuya gently wound some sheets around Seto's limbs as a clumsy form of restraints. Now, the bound and broken heir of KaibaCorp. stares dumbly out into the horror of alien terrain, still trapped within nightmares that has been haunting him since childhood…_

Epilogue: Waters of Enlightenment

Darkness…I can't see anything. I've fallen into this limitless void of shadows, somewhere without a location on a map, an unexplored territory, an arctic desert where the sun refuses to shine. Like a blind man inventing enlightenment, I discover the identity of the nameless and faceless monster that lurks in the boundaries of tainted love--myself.

It is me who carries the vow of uncertain destiny, who cares nothing for fate or romance. I am responsible for discouraging my mind from wandering to more affectionate thoughts that warps reason into the only attribute I know sentimental feelings to be, who comprehends the joy of emotions as just ones and zeros on a computer monitor which reflects a numerical background. This is me, as _I _know me, and how _others_ have come to understand me as well: a barely living android that functions strictly off of processed data. Am I nothing more than a beast built on technology? Is this truly a mark of my personal character? How can acquaintances impose such critical judgments on my behavior and arrive at horribly illiterate evaluations of my temperament? If they could look at me now, those harsh and hypercritical eyes of society, they would see that I'm just the opposite…

My wrists--I can't observe their precarious state at the moment, for they are stretched out to my sides--but I _feel _them suspended in the air. Both of my bony limbs are hanging limply by my head, sagging by their joints, reminding me of the classic depiction of Christ hanging from a cross. An unsettling feeling gurgles in the pit of my stomach, making me dizzy and sick simultaneously. The last image I want roaming free in my mind is someone nailed to a set of intersecting boards left to die a forsaken death. 

In spite of myself, I experienced a moment of weakness. Abandoned--I couldn't help but feel so utterly alone at this point in my existence--and I hated that I was allowing myself to bask in the light of pity. Sympathy was my least favorite emotion to show; however, I surrendered my soul to its seemingly bottomless depths. It was as if I had been treading on a glass ceiling and the pane shattered beneath me, leaving my broken form to dive into a place I never wanted to revisit in my nightmares, much less in reality. Looming over the edge of my breaking point, I closed my eyes, buried my chin into my chest, and expelled my last breath from the plane of materialism. If I was to be the next Lamb of God, then I at least wished to fade from this realm with a peaceful bearing. Immediately, I doubted that I could enter the Creator's golden gates, so hoped for something a little more attainable. I may not be eligible to receive archangel wings or the status of a saint, but I am uninterested in what dimension I'll be transported to in the after-life. There is another cross I'd rather construct, carry, and be held up on by barbed wire.

Tensing from the uncomfortable starvation of oxygen, I snapped my jaws shut and squeezed my lids together. This treatment would only last a few agonizing seconds longer before I perish from destructive inhalation technique. It is also a necessary evil to me, so I took up the task with as much enthusiasm as a tired and weary spirit could muster. Desperation had a funny way of making me act out my inhibitions, allowing my voice box to open and close at will, and letting impulsive reactions become quite tangible theories. For the first time in all my teenage years, my one and only selfish wish was about to evolve into more than a much sought-after dream--it held the promise of physical awareness.

Struggling under the pressure, my body scrunched itself into a tight mass of flesh, my knees jumping up towards my chest while pulling a pair of anxiety-ridden feet with them. Nails of mine scraped the surface of my palms, and even my elevated arms felt rigid, the muscles underneath my transparent skin throbbing madly as they braced themselves for the worst. Ignoring the rapid increase of pain in my structure, my mouth stretched itself into a languid smile. There was an obvious battle between the desires of my physical and emotional states, a tragic conflict of interests that would boast a single victor from their brutal brawl, but I couldn't permit my essence to be drawn into an infantile fight like that. The true importance was not placed upon the basic instincts to survive or on its opposite devil, emotions, that required personal happiness, but on a unique quality altogether. 

Spirituality is what I crave, the factor that has been missing from my estranged self, an attribute that I yearned to rediscover on my way to exiting this world, and I am going to obtain that feature, no matter what the cost--

Picking up my own crucifix, I mount myself to the splintering wood with imagined rope, turn my countenance towards the textured surface above, and pray to whatever god there is beyond the holy veil that they would be just and loving enough to guide me through the waters of enlightenment.


End file.
